A race against time (how terribly cliched)

I just popped the last of my Swiss Francs into the slot machine and I have about 38mins and 48secs to write this blog. I can do it...I know I can...

I am indeed in Switzerland. In Geneva, in fact. Coming into Switzerland from France was the fourth border I'd crossed since leaving Berlin and only the first time my passport was checked! Since then it's been checked a second time - at the UN headquarters, but I'll get to that in a second.

After I checked into my hostel (yesterday) I meandered down to the Lake Geneva which is really more like a small sea. It's huge. And lovely. Surrounded by moutains and rich people's houses. Whilst walking along the banks, I happened upon a free bike rental place and decided to hop on one. I've had many bicycle experiences in Europe and they've all ended with me having a very sore crotch. I'm not a tall person and bicycle manufacturers never really seem to consider the more vertically challenged of us out there.... This experience ended no differently. I'm still suffering. Anyway, I did get to see the centre of Geneva by bike, which was, truth be told, a little awkward as the bike paths in the centre are non-existent and there are people people everywhere not really looking out for cyclists at all. Considering I was trying to navigate my way around a foreign city on a bike and dodge people and cars and all manner of crazy things, I don't feel I really saw as much of the centre as I could have.... Never mind, never mind. I really only came to Geneva because of the lake and the UN anyway.

I did pop into the UN headquarters this morning. As I mentioned earlier, you have to present your passport even just to visit as a tourist. Security is pretty tight, as I'm sure you can all imagine. You go in through the visitor's entrance (aaaaaaaaaaall the way around the back of the humungous [this is such a strange word] building) and approach the security desk where they take your passport, record all the details on a computer, take a photo of you (yes a photo) and issue you with an ID card on the spot which must be worn at all times (even at home). The chap who processed my details took my insinuations about me being some kind of terrorist quite well. I think he felt some kind of affinity towards me because we both share the same birthday, as he commented upon when he was nosing about in my passport. You get to keep the ID card in the end. Bonus.

Nobody is allowed into the UN building without a tour guide and so I took the tour (which was quite good). However, as the tour progressed, I couldn't help thinking how very token the UN as a world organisation seems to be. It was really quite a downer. The more I heard about the way things are done in there, the more hopeless I felt about the possibility of progressing towards world peace and a better state of affairs regarding human rights. I wont go into it all though - the timer on this computer is ticking away.

After planting a suspicious-looking package in one of the key conference rooms, I got the hell out of there, slipped into my togs and spent the rest of the day swimming in the lake and sunbathing lizard-style on the rocks lakeside. I don't usually like swimming in lakes - I much prefer the sea, but like I mentioned before, this lake is so very big it almost is the sea! So much so, that I was surprised not to taste any salt when I jumped in. I was a bit disappointed really. I miss salty water. I haven't swam in the ocean for............oh, such a long time. I think I waded in the Baltic Sea in Poland about a year ago, but the jellyfish cut that very short indeed. I didn't even get to taste the salt water. My goodness - I think the last time I really swam in the sea was in Malta. Horrendous, I tell you, absolutely horrendous. I'm craving salt now.

And now I'm ranting.

I'm off to Dijon tomorrow to get me some mustard! And some wine. Indeed, allegedly the best wine in France comes from the Cote d'Or region (that is, unless you're a mega Bordeaux fan) and I'm planning on doing a daytrip to a winery. Scrum-diddly-umptious.

Lookie here...I've managed to wrap this up with eleven minutes remaining.
Until next time, my friends, until next time.

XO

P.S. See my comment on the last post about pics. Computers should all die and go to hell. No, they don't even deserve hell. Beezelbub would be quite a cool eternal companion. They deserve...I dunno...help me out here...

The day I fell in love with a sculpture...

...was a rainy day in Paris. A museum day. The Musée d'Orsay, to be exact. I'd just visited the Impressionists on the top floor - delighted by Degas' dancers, wooed by Monet and Renoir. I descended a couple of levels and entered a former ballroom cum (hee hee) exhibition space.

And there she was.

Reclining on a rug, back slightly arched, body facing one direction, head tilted back towards the other. Both knees bent, with one cocked slightly higher than the other. Marble skin (marble everything, in fact) glowing.

I circled her. Slowly. Then I circled her again and again. I was temted to run a hand along her smooth, rounded belly, but a sign in French forbade me to touch (it's always the forbidden that's most alluring).

"Maybe if you gave her a kiss she'd come to life," Charlie suggested. Mmm. That face tilted around towards me, grinning cheekily, was indeed beckoning a kiss. I imagined it. I imagined that marble body coming to life, limbs softening, breasts and belly drooping slightly as she sat up...

I circled her again, this time looking at her via the LCD screen of my digital camera. I'll post some pics of her as soon as I find a computer that supports my camera and that doesn't cost a million euros an hour. Be warned though - the pictures really pale against her image 'in the flesh' (in the marble?).

It's funny that when you start taking photos of a piece of art in a gallery people come rushing up, glancing frantically between the piece and the plaque displaying the artist's name, recognising neither, confusion ensuing. "What is it? Who's the artist?"

I don't know. I just want to ride her.

(I don't even know her name).

************************************

In other news: Charlie flew to Spain a couple of days ago and is currently melting away in Madrid (he tells me that he's already lost one foot to the heat). I'm still in Paris staying with an Australian guy (from Nimbin!) called Martin, with whom I almost had fisty cuffs with last night during a two hour 'discussion' about sexual/gender identity and identity in general. I finally ended the conversation and told him I'd prefer to read my book (but I really just wanted to shove it up his arse. On second thought, it is Ali Smith's 'The Accidental' and I haven't finished reading it yet, so losing it to his arrogant, passive agressive arse really would have been a shame...).

I went to Versailles yesterday and couldn't believe the queue to get in. Fortunately, I spotted a high school group about halfway up the queue and very surreptitiously slipped in with them. Hee hee. Visiting the inside of the palace itself was highly unpleasant due to the vast amount of people pushing around in there. The highlight for me was Marie-Antoinette's bedroom and the little disguised door in the corner of the room through which she escaped the night an angry mob stormed the palace during the revolution. It was off with her head anyway, of course.

The gardens where a little more pleasant. Absolutely ENORMOUS, but pleasant. My fav part of the day was visiting the Queen's Hamlet - a tiny little fake country village that was built for Marie-Antoinette to play in. A little weird, really i.e. la la fantasy world.

I'm off to Geneva in Switzerland tomorrow morning. Only for a couple of days though before I head back into France. Gotta get me some Swiss francs.

Au revoir and much l'amour (I'm just embarrassing myself now, aren't I...?).

Chocolate, chips and dead people

Happy days are here again.

I am in Paris. With Charlie, whom I've been travelling with since my last couple of days in Holland. We met in Amsterdam and after some hugs, some tears, some talk and a slight case of hyperventilation everything is rosy.

Could Holland be home to the loveliest, warmest, kindest and most generous people in Europe? I think it could. One supporting example: I was on a train having a little cry one day, when a lady sitting in another section of the train noticed and got up out of her seat (twice!) to come over to me and pat my arms and shoulders and tell me to take care, that life was not always easy but that I'd be happy again some day and other things of the like. Her kindness made me cry all the more. I loved her so much right then. I was sad to leave the land of the Dutch. Nonetheless, off I went - with Charlie - to Belgium.

We arrived in Antwerp on a day so hot the air felt gooey. After checking into our hostel (which had a witch theme and was run by a friendly witch), we went to get some food and discovered the joy that is Belgian food and service. Oh my oh my oh my. After living in Berlin for 14 months where customer service barely exists and you simply get what you're given, eating out in Belgium was heaven. The consistently high quality of food, service and presentation was delightful. One need only go to a sandwich bar to be spoilt to bits.

Then there's the chocolate. OH MY ohmyohmyohmy! We stocked up on so much Belgian chocolate that we only just finished the last of it today.

So - Antwerp. Despite the heat, we explored. After leaving the cobbled streets and squares, old buildings, restaurants and cafes of the immediate centre, we stumbled across the 'seedier' side of Antwerp: starker, tackier, and not as well maintained. That is, until you reach the vast shopping mall of women. Antwerp's red light district seemed to me to be a step up from Amsterdam's. Wide, pedestrianised streets (no tiny alleyways here), where not only are the ladies' windows framed by fluorescent red lights, but there are also red street lamps and entire buildings painted red (can you tell I'm getting a bit over-excited about the colour text feature...?)! All of the window shoppers also looked serious - we seemed to be the only tourists around. We wondered why Amsterdam was so famous for it's red light district when Antwerp's was equally as (more?) impressive.

On we walked. By this stage we had both almost completely melted away because of the heat, but we managed to make it back to the main sqaure where we gleefully cooled off in the fountain.

Just to mix things up a bit, the next day was cold and pouring rain. The museum we walked miles to get to (in the rain) was closed, but the big umbrellas we borrowed from the hostel were fun and every bit of food we tasted was oh so yum (sorry).

Then we went to Brugge. Pretty, picturesque, quaint little Brugge. We barely ate anything beyond chocolate and chips here (because of course, Belgium is also the home of hot chips). I'm still not so sure about the whole chips and mayo thing though.... Chips should be eaten drowned in vinegar or not eaten at all!

On our second day in Brugge we hired some bikes and rode to the beach via the teeny-tiny town of Damme. Such a lovely ride through the Belgian countryside (albeit a little longer than we were told - about 20km to the beach and 20km back again!), where we saw all manner of farm animal grazing the green green grass (the white cows is where the white chocolate comes from. The brown cows is where the milk chocolate comes from. The white and brown cows is where the marble chocolate comes from...)

We chilled out in Brugge for four days (although I went on a daytrip to Brussels) on one of those days), before catching the train to Paris. And here we still are, in this city where everyone walks around holding a baguette as though it were their life support.

I spent our first three nights here at Amaury's - a friend of Cat's (Cat being a friend of mine from Berlin. Hi Cat, if you're reading!), whilst Charlie stayed at a hostel. Amaury lives at the edge of the district of Montmatre, which is where the Moulin Rouge is. Now, I know that my idea of the Moulin Rouge has been completely warped by the film, but the disappointment hit me hard. Where were Ewan and Nicole atop an elaborately docorated Indian elephant singing their hearts out into the night? Where was the massive neon "L'amour" sign on the building across the road? Where was Kylie Minogue flitting about as the fiery green fairy (so I could squash her underfoot)? Oh the disappointment.

Anyway.

We are in Paris and we've done all of the things one would expect a person visiting Paris to do: climb the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, visit Notre Dame and the Louvre (which is so ridiculously huge it's a joke). We plan to visit Versaille tomorrow. Last night we hung out at the Eiffel Tower until 10pm, as every night at that time it lights up with what appear to be glittering fairy lights for 10 minutes. Lovely. It's Christmas every night in Paris. We also happened to be here for the Fête de la Musique (annual music fest marking the first day of summer), with free concerts and musical performances all over the city. People, people everywhere. After being a little overwhelmed by all the people we thought we'd go and hang out with a more quiet variety of folk. Namely, the dead ones. We visited Paris' largest cemetary and paid a visit to eternal residents such as Jim Morrison (there were actually people walking around the cemetary wearing The Doors t-shirts, which I thought was a bit much) and Oscar Wilde. The latter's (massive) headstone was covered in lipstick-stained kisses. Kinky Oscar still gettin' some luuuuuuuuurve.

This is our sixth day in Paris and I will be here for another four. Charlie leaves for Spain in two days, so we'll both be travelling solo again soon, but with the intention of meeting up again soon enough (probably in Melbourne).

From now on, I plan to update my blogspot more frquently so as to avoid MASSIVMO posts like this one! I hope at least some of you have made it this far...

I'll post pics soon(ish).
Love muchly XO

Red lights, red lights...

So I'm finally sitting my bottom down long enough to update my blog. Let me just recap what I've been up to since the last post...

On my third and fourth days in Luebeck I actually caught a train to Hamburg and spent my days there. I began just by wandering around the centre and randomly happened upon a beach volleyball match in the main square in front of the town hall! A small, temporary 'stadium' (sand included, of course) was set up for what I think was the European beach volleyball championships. There was a section of free seating, so I watched the match between Germany and Belgium. I think I was the only one in the crowd barracking for the Belgians. They lost.

Then I wandered some more. I eventually made my way to a district called St. Pauli (sorry Lukasz - I didn't visit the soccer club!!), famous for the Reeperbahn, but I'll get to that in a moment. I initially went there to seek out a festival that I was told was happening that day. A guy from Hamburg was staying at my hostel in Luebeck and he told me about it. Strange guy. He opened the conversation by telling me that he was a conservative right-winger, "like the Republicans in the US". His words!! Interesting way to open a conversation. Anyway, I'm diverging. So I checked out this music festival. The music being celebrated was 'Schlager'. For those who don't know (I didn't!), Schlager is a kind of German folk/pop music. Very daggy. At least I thought so. Some of the songs kind of sounded like ABBA in German, but worse. The festival itself had me cringing. It seemed to comprise a whole lot of middle-aged to ageing people dressed up in flourescent, flower power gear trying to relive their not-quite-there hippie days. There were also some sad youths there who also thought it was cool to dress up like this. Am I being too harsh? No, really. I'm not being harsh enough. That'll learn me to take the advice of a Republican...!

I did a lap of the main festival ground and got the hell outta there. Then I strolled down the Reeperbahn, which is a long, busy road that happens to be the main the red light strip in Hamburg. Imagine: almost a one kilometre stretch of sex bar after porno cinema after sex shop, etc. etc. on both sides of the road! There was seriously no break in between except for the occasional kebab shop. The side streets leading off from this road were just as crazy. I don't mind red light districts, in fact, I quite like the red light district in Amsterdam - it retains a kind of seedy charm and romance - but the Reeperbahn is simply ugly and garish. Interesting to see though. Just not a nice hang-out.

I then made my way to the Schanzenviertel - an area of Hamburg that turned out to be very funky indeed. It has a very alternative, arty vibe about it. I spent the rest of my time in Hamburg exploring this area. Nice nice nice.

After my visits to Luebeck and Hamburg I then left Germany altogether! Finally! I knew I had crossed the border into the Netherlands when I looked out of the train window and everybody I saw was riding a bike. Everybody. I don't just mean a few people here and there, but reams of people on bicycles. Nothing out of the ordinary in the Netherlands, but remarkable to me.

I caught the train to Utrecht and met Chris, a friend of Edo's (hi Edo!), at the main train station. Chris had super-duper kindly agreed to let me stay at his place for a while Chris talking to his mum in Leiden during my stay in the Netherlands. I'm actually hogging his computer at the moment (thanks Chris!). Utrecht is just south-east of Amsterdam and only about 35 minutes away by train, so I spent my first two days in the Netherlands there. I really like Amsterdam (and not just because of the sex and drugs!). The canals!! So beautiful. I spent my first day happily wandering around and also popped into the Van Gogh Museum. On my second day there I visited the Anne Frank House, explored the trendy streets of Jordaan and went to a couple of markets. I met Chris in the evening and he took me to a legalised squat for a 5 euro three course meal! This place was relatively swank compared to the squats in Berlin - it actually had tables and chairs! After dinner we made an obligatory pitstop at a coffeeshop, bought some hoochie-mama and smoked it in the Vondelpark (Amsterdam's big city park). On our way back to the station we passed through the red light district (also obligatory!) and ogled the ladies in the windows. Such a fascinating part of Amsterdam. I can imagine how bored and fed up the workers would get with the hordes of tourists though.

The next day I thought I should probably explore the town I was actually staying in, so I spent the day in Utrecht. A nice town prettified by canals (oh canals!), which also happens to be the home town of the guy who created Muffy (or is it Miffy?)! You know, the white rabbit wearing an orange dress? There used to be (still are?) children's picture story books of this character. In any case, just see the picture I've posted - a sculpture of Muffy in a square in Utrecht. So Muffy is Dutch! For some reason I always thought s/he was Japanese! And Muffy isn't it's real name at all: it's Nijntje, so Chris tells me! Whilst walking around Utrecht, I discovered that it also has its very own little red light district. There I was, walking down the street at midday and I noticed a woman in one of the windows I was passing. "What's that lady doing there?" I asked myself. "She must be arranging the window display," I concluded. Oh no! She was the window display!

<- The windmill at the end of the street!
That evening Chris and I went to a town called Leiden, which is home to the oldest university in the Netherlands. Quite a trendy town, again, with lots of lovely canals.

The next day I spent half a day in Haarlem, which was nice, but not too remarkable and then I was back in Amsterdam. I visited a fantastic photography exhibition (World Press Photos), which just happened to be smack-bang in the middle of the red light district, so while I was there I thought I may as well have another little wander around. My newly found fascination with this makes me think that I'm in the wrong profession...just kidding mum.

Dinnertime view from my window seat at a Portuguese tapas restaurant in Amsterdam

Tonight was originally going to be my last night in Utrecht before going to Rotterdam, but last night I received an email from the online hostel booking service that I used to book my accommodation in Rotterdam, telling me that the hostel I booked a bed at (over one month ago!) displayed their opening dates incorrectly on the website and wont actually be open! That didn't stop them from deducting a deposit from my credit card though! Bastards. Never mind. It was only a miniscule amount, but it's the principal of the matter! So Chris has doubly-super-duper kindly offered to let me camp on his bedroom floor for another two nights. Rotterdam is only a fifty minute train ride away, making it a feasible day-trip. Now that I'll be staying here longer, I can go to a dance party that Chris and his friends were going to in Utrecht and not have to worry about getting up early in the morning. And I'm also going to see a dance show in Amsterdam on Sunday, which is part of the Holland Festival. Yay!

Thanks for everyone's emails and comments - I love hearing from you all.
Much love,
Mich XO Self-portrait in Amsterdam

Lovely Lübeck

The adventure begins.

It's day 2 in Lübeck and what a beautiful day it is. The sun is shining, which is something I haven't seen for a while.... Before I go on, let me recount the little adventure that got me here...

<- A sign at the entrance of a hof. Berlin needs signs like this...!

I spent my last few nights in Berlin at Tanja and Mateo's place, which was soooooo wonderful I found it difficult to leave (I hope Tan didn't find it too difficult to wash the tear stains out of the shoulder of her top where I had cried all over it..). I lugged my pack to Frankfurter Allee and hopped on a train to Greifswalderstrasse, where I was to meet Andy before catching my ride. Yes...my ride.... I was to meet this guy in the carpark of a small supermarket behind the train station and apparently, so were eight other people. We all assumed that this guy must have a van. He did. An old bright green VW with smiley-faced condoms and mysterious white splats all over it...hmmm...classy. The driver did a head count and realised that there were indeed nine of us - and only eight passenger seats. We ended up cramming four people into the back seat (where I was sitting). As a result, I was sitting in between two seats with the raised edges where the two seats meet digging into my back. My left bumcheek was higher than the other, so I was also a little lopsided, which meant I kept falling into the lap of the girl beside me (she was nice about it). So this is how I spent the three hour drive to Hamburg. In the end, the four of us in the back only had to pay €10 instead of €13.50. Either way, it beats paying €70 to catch the train from Berlin to Hamburg.

When we arrived in Hamburg I caught a 45 minute train to Lübeck and here I am. I spent what I had left of the day meandering around the city. It's so pretty - cobbled streets and medieval buildings abound. It's the kind of city where cars seem out of place, where it seems that everyone should be getting around on rickety old bikes and by horse and carriage. I'm staying in the north-eastern part of the old town, which is particularly lovely. It was the craft and artisan area in the Middle Ages and when the housing ran out, tiny little semi-detached homes were built in the courtyards (Höfe) of other buildings and people still live there today (see pic). I want to live there! You can access the Höfe via very narrow walkways (Gänge) off the street. So so cute.

So there's not much else to tell, as I haven't even been here for 24 hours! The hostel is great - there's barely anyone else staying there, which means I have an entire room to myself! Just what I needed right now. There's also a beloved kitchen - with an oven! So I bought some veggies from the market in the main square and roasted them - such a treat at a hostel.

I plan to catch the train into Hamburg the next couple of days and then I'm off to the Netherlands!

Bis dann...!