Ye Olde London

I started writing this as a comment but began going into far too much detail about things so decided to create a new post...

I'm in London at the moment and am staying with my wonderful friend Henry whom I met in Berlin (a native Brit, though). When he moved back here he took his computer with him so I'm having to adjust to the German keyboard all over again. Damn it!

I'm liking London a lot more than I thought I would. I'm staying in the East End, only a couple of streets away from Brick Lane (I haven' visited it yet though!) and not too far away from the street called Little Britain! Ha!

I arrived yesterday on a RyanAir flight (my first ever!) and spent the afternoon following Henry around the Westend, including Soho. If I were a zillionaire I would like to have had a drink at every funky little bar/cafe/restaurant we passed (that's a lot of drinks and a lot of pounds!). We bought a four pack of no-name beer from Sainsbury's and drank that instead. So many people, so many pasties. Yes, pasties. I had spent the afternoon telling Henry how I've been craving pasties for the last two years and haven't been able to have one and must indulge in London, when we turn a corner and find not only a pasty store but a pasty festival! They knew I was coming. They. Knew. I. Was. Coming. I had a pasty. A big one. It was gooood.

Weird and disturbing fact about London: they speak English here. I hear they speak it all over the UK. I'm still getting used to being able to understand people on the street, on the TV (which I've already been watching too much of - British Big Brother, Spaced, Top of the Pops - OMG the last Top of the Pops ever was screened tonight! It's been axed even though it still has a massive following. Nice one iTunes, MTV, etc...). Let's not forget that it's been over two years since I've been in an English speaking country! Not since I left Melbourne! It's actually a little disorienting. I keep speaking to people on the street in foreign languages (nein danke, gracias, s'il vous plait,,,) and then feeling terribly silly about it afterwards. I can read signs on the street and in the tube! Understand voiceover announcements! These latter two I seem to be finding particularly hilarious and when I hear an announcement or see a sign on the tube I start laughing at how absurd the meaning is and look around expecting others to be laughing at it too, but apparently notifications of which floor to get off at on the elevator or reminders to mind the gap between the train and the platform don't seem to be funny if you've been able to understand them all along. Did you know that last year there was one fatality and over two hundred injuries in London resulting from people not minding the gap? Ha ha! Today I actually followed a couple down the street so that I could continue to listen to their conversation! It's crazy, really, being able to understand everything with absolute certainty, with no guesswork required. I think it may be driving me a bit nutty.

I seem to have diverged a little bit. Today is Sunday so I went to three markets: Spittalfields (just down the street from where I'm staying), Portebello and Camden. It was a good day. I also walked through Hyde Park which was devastatingly disappointing, but when I made it to the Speakers' Corner (in the north eastern tip of the park?) there were several people 'speaking' (ranting, preaching...) to crowds of people. Most people seemed to be discussing the current Israel/Lebanon issue and I ended up listening to one particularly charismatic speaker for about an hour. Until I went and sat right underneath him, it was difficult to hear him for all of the other people around who were yelling and arguing. People were getting very emotional about the things that were being said. It was interesting (to say the least) to witness.

One thing that bothers me a little about London: no-one seems to smile at each other in the street. Coming from Spain I had become quite accustomed to making eye contact with people and having them grin at me. I've made eye contact with people on the street here in London but when I smile at them they glare back at me! Not so nice.

I've only been here for a day and a half, so still lots to do. I haven't even seen the Thames yet! I plan to do that tomorrow and also splurge a little and go on the London Eye - it costs a ridiculous twenty quid!

Love to you all
XO

Bullfighting should be illegal!!!

I am in Granada but I really want to be in Morocco or Egypt or somewhere in the Middle East that isn't being occupied or blasted to bits. Granada, culturally speaking, is the closest I've come to being in an Arabic country (although I'm sure that it's a far cry from actually being in the Middle East or Morocco, etc.) and I've been swept away. I love the architecture (my goodness, the Alhambra - so wonderfully elegant), I love the music, I love Arabic script, I love the clothes, the furniture, the dancing...

Granada is such a wonderful fusion of people and cultures. There are so many Moroccans and Egyptians living here, many running tea houses or Halal kebab shops and restaurants or market style shops. I went a little crazy in said shops today and bought so many things I had to send a box back to Melbourne. I'm staying at a fantastic hostel in the Arabic quarter, so these shops are just a footstep away.

I'm hoping to catch some street bellydancing (Yes! The joy!) in an area called Sacromonte tonight, which is renowned for its 'gypsy' population. On my first day here I walked up to this area and climbed as far up the hill (a series of small mountains, really) as one could go. I'm talking dry, steep, dirt paths in full exposure to the sun (it's been reaching high forties here in the south of Spain recently - I'm actually really loving it!), cacti growing wild, not a single person in sight. Just lots and lots of caves hand dug out of the mountain, furnished with old car seats, mattresses, half burnt sofas.... It's the cave dwellers who treat people to bellydancing performances in town. Being up there was really one of the highlights of my trip. I couldn't believe I was in Europe and Western Europe at that! I didn't encounter any people whilst up there but I did run into a mule. What is this funny creature? I thought to myself. Not quite donkey, not quite horse...my goodness, I thik it's a mule. End of the line.

I also encountered a couple of horses and two dogs who were unfortunately not of the man's best friend variety - at least not of this man (?!). Trained to kill, these dogs. I acted cool and nonchalant, but it must be said, I was more than just a little worried. I chose a path that led up, up and away from the crazy killer canines (of death).

Despite the dogs, Granada is great. In fact, I've enjoyed being here as much as I enjoyed being in Barcelona. Mental note (colon, can't find the colon) must come back to Granada...

...but not necessarily to Madrid. It was fine, nothing wrong with the place at all. I just didn't feel it had that much to offer me. I did happen to catch a massive rally on the street below my dorm room blacony - a rally for peace in Lebanon. Bless the Spanish and their passion. It made me ashamed to come from a country where the vast majority of the population are complacent, pampered brats (let's face it, eh?). This rally was such a celebration of peace - no tension, no hostility at all. There was music and dancing and applause and laughter without trivialising the issue at hand....Bless them, I say, bless them. It made me want to be Spanish.

I left Madrid quite willingly and headed for Cordoba where I stayed for two days, but soon realised I could've done it in one. The main attraction was the Mezquita (mosque), which has now long been a Catholic place of worship (blah), but still retains most of its Arabic architecture. The space inside is vast and is entirely comprised of a forest of arches and columns. It's wonderful. It made me think that Gaudi must surely have been inspired by Arabic architecture - inspiration drawn from nature, like so much Arabic architecture, the tile work...

Cordoba to Sevilla. Such a vibrant city. Everything stereotypically Spanish came from here - tapas (of which I've eaten waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much during my time in Spain), flamenco, bullfighting.... I did a tour of the bullfighting stadium where I was convinced more than ever that bullfighting should be illegal)!!! I wont go on a rant but it should be illegal!!! Did I already say that bullfighting should be illegal!!!

I also went to a flamenco show - a paid one, so the standard was high. So high in fact that the female dancer held the national prize for flamenco dancing. It was very intimate - held in the courtyard of a traditional Spanish building with two rows of audience seated on three sides. It was honestly one of the most exciting things I've ever seen in my life. And so simple - one singer, one guitarist, two dancers. Their voices and amazing sense of internal rhythm. At times the male dancer's legs were moving so fast you couldn't even see them properly - they were a blur. I kid you not. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Was this real? Indeed. No cinema screens here.

There's a long line of people waiting for this internet terminal (it's free! The internet is freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!), so I'm going to hop off now. Dinner is almost ready anyway. Yes, they cook massive veg dinners for everybody at this hostel, all for a mere three euros fifty. All the sangria you can drink. Dear lord.

I fly to London tomorrow morning. Yes, I'm finally making my way to the UK. I'm already cringing at the thought of all the ockers I'm bound to meet...

¡Hola!

Now that I'm feeling much less inebriated than I was whilst writing those last two posts, I though I'd better sit down and write something semi-decent.

I'm in Madrid. I left Barcelona rather sadly and wondered how the days there managed to fly by and wondered again why I was even leaving at all! Madrid is ok but just doesn't have the vibe that Barcelona does!

Let me just backtrack a little bit and make up for those two rather appalling drunken posts...

I mentioned that I'd done some daytrips whilst on the French Riviera (colon. I can't find the colon)
1. Cannes (see below)
2. Eze - ridiculously precious, really. for those of you who have been to Mark and Sandra's house in Malta, it's like that but the size of a village atop a mountain on the French Riviera. Ridiculous.
3. Menton - a typical beach town until you start walking up the mountain into the old residential area. The streets get narrower the higher you climb. Stone steps. Front doors on either side of you. Houses in various states of decay. Light orange, ping, yellow paint peeling from the walls until you find a bright one that has had a recent facelift - jumps out at you like a sudden burst of joy. I was sad to come back down the mountain - back into the world of wide-open streets, cars, shops and noise.
4. Monaco - a strange little country. Public elevators have been built into the mountain to help people get around without having to walk for ages along the winding mountain roads. The centre is fortified, tiny and pretty. The buildings look like they're made of icing. Grace Kelly's tombstone was a main tourist attraction, of course (did you know that she died in a car crash too? Seems to be the fate of much-loved princesses).

I left the blue, blue beaches of the Cote d'Azur for Avignon, where I caught the beginning of the performing arts festival. I'd booked my bed in Avignon about 3 months before leaving Berlin, knowing that the place would be teeming with people there for the festival. I saw two shows, both dance so I didn't have to contend with the French language. the best show I was though was a street performance by a circus troupe. They were great. Better than great.

On my third and last day in Avignon (I was sulking about having swallowed my tongue ring the day before - I've had it for 7 years and now I swallow it! I've since had it replaced though. All is restored to its natural balance...), I couldn't be bothered walking around anymore, so I simply sat in the main square all day and was entertained by street performer after street performer - for the entire day. It was great. I didn't even have to move (but why oh why was I sitting and watchin instead of performing? Woe is me).

From Avignon to Barcelona. The train trip was more pleasant than I expected, as I met the beautiful Lindsey and Brandt, who ended up staying at the same hostel as me in Barcelona (hey guys, if you're reading! I hope your trip ended without any crazy asthma attack induced train delays...!). Yes indeed, I love Barcelona. People speak of the energy that makes this city buzz and it's true - it's there, but it really starts to fizz and zap well after the sun goes down. The people emerge from their siestas and roam the warm streets, opening themselves to each other. Poeple smile and drink and talk to each other. The seedy underbelly of the city gradually exposes itself as the night (morning) wears on.

On my last in Barcelona I met an Algerian guy (now living in Tolouse, France) called Mehdi in Plaça Reial. He was lovely. He'd been to barceloan several times before and we had coffee in a bar that he said was owned by Manu Chau! He lives in Barcelana and apparently hangs out in the streets around his bar and busks. No Manu Chau that night, but lots of other interesting characters...

After comparing Maltese and Arabic and being delighted at how much of the other's language we could understand, Mehdi and I headed to another bar for a beer (I could only drink half of mine, as I could still feel the vodka in my body from that morning...). We met a lovely Argentinian guy called Fernandez who lives in Barcelona. His English was atrocious but he was so delightful! People are so warm in this city - it injects them with some love vibe (or maybe everyone's on happy drugs...). In this bar we witnessed a collaborative theft fo a girl's purse, so surreptitious that we only realised what had happened after the fact. Fun and games in Barcelona
We walked the streets a little more (more crowded than during the day) and I started heading in the general direction of my hsotel. Sudenly, with a "Bye Punkita!" a quick hug and a kiss on each cheek, Mehdi disappeared down a long, narrow street in the Gothic quarter. Easy come, easy go.

It's encounters like that that give me the spirit to keep travelling solo, that make a place all the more memorable.

When I arrived in Madrid, I discovered that Lindsey and Brandt had arrived at the hostel just before me and had dinner ready and waiting for me. What luxury - to turn up at a random hostel and have dinner there for you. So good.

I'm about to time out at any second so I'm going to post this right now!

Adios!

Me again

I should be in bed now.

Did I mention that EVERYONE here is drunk and that I cannot find the question mark or numerous other punctuation marks...

Did I mention that I visited Eze and Menton in France which are so picturesque you will just have to look them up online and then just wish you were there...

Did I mention that Gaudi is great and that it is a pity about his Jesus fixation and that he is dead...

Did I mention that I should be in bed...and that I cannot find the question mark or numerous other punctuation marks...

Did I mention that I shared a six bed room with a family of five and that there were three CHILDREN in my room...

Did I mention that the father of the family was a bit strange and gave me his telephone number and address and said that I could stay with them whenever I was in Denmark...

Did I mention that dirty old men of any nationality are diry old men...

Did I mention that I should be in bed...and that I cannot find the question mark or any other punctuation mark or the question mark...or the exclamation mark...oh woe is me...

a tad drunk

yes indeed i am a tad drunk in Barcelona. A tad drunk at 1:36am. Russian vodka in Barcelona. Free internet. Dear me. This post is going to take me quite a while to write - I can´t find any of the keys.

So. I feel like I´m being a little rude abandoning my newfound friends for free internet. This will be a short post to say the least.

Barcelona is great. I love Gaudi.

Oh. The last time I left you I was in France, right? So, I did some daytrips. Cannes. Let´s face it - Cannes is a small city made famous by the film festival. There´s really nothing much to set in apart from the rest of the towns on the Cote d´Azure. Palm trees really cheapen the aesthetics of a city. Except for Barcelona. They work so very well in Barcelona.

Monaco. I also went to Monaco. Weird. A country unto intself even though it only takes up less than 2km of the French Riviera. One has to take elevators to get from one road the next, in order to avoid walking all the way around the mountain to get from...one road to the next.

Dearie me. I´m giving up on this post now. I am way too unfocussed (is that a word?) to focus (is that a word?).

Adios.

Hot and festive

Guess what I saw in Nice?

The beach.

The blessed ocean. I wasn't even aware that I was all that attached to it until I got all teary on the train to Nice at the sight of it!

So obviously, I am in Nice on the Côte d'Azur in France. But before I fill you in on my adventures so far in this crazy little city, let me backtrack a little...

I left you in Geneva. From there I headed back into France - to Dijon on the Côte d'Or. The hostel I stayed at was more like a 300 bed psych home (lots of strange characters wandering about) about 2km out of the centre, but unfortunately it's the only hostel in Dijon. After I was finally checked in, I hopped on a bus and discovered the 17th century gorgeousness that is Dijon's centre. The sheer beauty of the place made me feel so joyful! Most of the buildings are made of limestone (I think, or some kind of sandstone in any case) and several of them also still have their original half-timbered façade. Old style street lamps line the streets and pink and red flowers (petunias?) overflow from cast iron balconies.

I managed to sneak into a 17th century 'hôtel' (former aristocratic townhouses now divided into apartments. My goodness - the glamour of living in a building like that...!) as a resident was leaving. I snuck through the door to the building just before it closed behind her and nosed about in the courtyard. Lovely lovely creepers growing wildly over the walls; an unkempt little garden; semi-deteriorated old wooden window shutters; and roof so old that it's actually gone wavy. I managed to get friendly with an old man later on in the day who let me into the courtyard of the hôtel he lives in (much to the alarm of the woman who was with him). This one was a little grander than the first - bigger garden, plus a fountain. So so nice. It's the evident age of these places that make them so appealing.

As I was wandering through the streets I noticed some action (preparations, people setting things up) in the main square (actually a big semi-circle surrounded by a palace complex). By a stroke of lucky timing, I discovered that I was in Dijon for the inauguration of the newly renewed square (this is quite an impressive square, so a big deal). Fun and joy. Celebrations in the evening. In the meantime I thought I'd chill in a small garden nearby.

As I entered the garden I passed a wedding party and noticed a child of about 3 staring at me in fascination. I get this a lot from kids, so I didn't think much of it. That is, not until the child started following me and sat down in the garden right next to me before snuggling up to me! I was somewhat alarmed, not only because this little stranger was coming in for premature cuddles, but also because children usually seem to find me quite frightening (I guess the glares and faces I pull at them don't help). The boy's grandfather was also quite alarmed and came running over and tried to coax the child away. But no! He wanted to play! He started raving away at me in French, to which I could only respond with random noises, gestures and facial expressions. Then he ripped up handfuls of grass and threw them over me (probably because he'd just seen wedding guests throwing confetti over the newlyweds), so I did the same to him. We were having great, grassy fun, but apparently this was too much for the grandfather to bear. He hauled the child off, wailing and screaming (the child, not gramps), but I managed to calm him with some reassuring waves and au revoirs. I was a little disappointed that he'd gone. Who'd have thought - some children can be endearing (believe it or not, nix).

I wasn't alone for long though. Other characters that I met in the garden:

• a French poet swathed in many a colourful skirt and reading British poetry. He wanted to read me some (shall I compare thee to a summer's day...).
• a somewhat inebriated man who wanted to know if, of all things, I wanted to dance. Random.
• another slightly inebriated man (friend of the first) who wanted to know where I was from. "Australia! Are you Aboriginal?" I can't tell you how often I've been asked this since being in Europe. Apparently: Australian + dark skin = Aboriginal.

By this stage, other people in the garden were looking at me rather sympathetically. I realised it was about time for the festivities to begin in the main square, so I was able to make a getaway without seeming too rude about it.

The festivities were, it must be said, spectacular. They involved:

• a 15m x 15m golden praying mantis which made its way through the city (it had been built around a truck), with separate mechanical moving parts and a navigator lodged between its green eyes (that's how big it was - one of its eyes was the size of a grown person!). Sounds tacky in description, but it was actually utterly impressive and very cool. It also had pyrotech feelers (feelers?).
• pixie trapeze artist/contortionist - doing her stuff in a hoop hanging about 13m above a concrete ground (no net) from the head of the mantis.
• a very hairy angel doing similar things as the pixie.
• stilt-walkers with bouncy stilts bouncing all over the place, jumping rope, juggling, spinning boes, etc. and wearing wicked Moulin Rouge/hippie costumes.
• live ska band and African drummer (playing from the back of the praying mantis).
• pyrotechnic show i.e. fireworks, coloured smoke and confetti, streamers, etc. being blasted out of these canon things (funny how lots of colours can distract people so).

Very festive.

Indeed. An evening of festivities. Down the street was a big screen showing the Brazil vs France soccer match. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds (possibly thousands, no MILLIONS!) of French people in front of this screen watching the match. I don't think the French expected France to beat Brazil, so imagine the elation (to put it mildly) when they did. People were crying. People were hugging and dancing and singing and throwing beer everywhere, thumping cars as they hooned down the streets with people hanging out of them beating saucepans with wooden spoons, tooting car horns, doing monos, stopping traffic...

Yes. Stopping traffic.

Traffic of which my bus was a part. My 15min wait for the bus turned into an hour and a half and still my bus hadn't arrived. I would've walked back to the hostel if I'd known the way, but I didn't and it was off all of my maps.

But sometimes the gods take pity.

I happened to ask a random girl a question and we eventually discovered that she lived right across the road from where I was staying. She invited me to walk with her. I thought she was an angel. My own personal Gabriel (never mind that our bus actually passed us when we were halfway home).

The next day was a hot, lazy Sunday. Perfect.

The day after that I visited Beaune - another cute little town on the Côte d'Or. After wandering around the town itself, I rented a bike and did a round trip through some vineyards, wineries and small wine-making towns (about 15k all up, but thankfully, the bike was actually the right size for me and the seat was padded! My feet could actually touch the ground! Happy crotch). I stopped at one winery for a free tour and wine-tasting. After a glass of pinot noir, sparkling white, chardonnay and cassis (I'd never taste real cassis before - syrupy!) on an empty belly on a hot, hot day, I was feeling rather tipsy as I hopped back on my bike and rolled down those green green hills. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

The next day brought me to Nice. An unexpectedly manic place. Ocean clear and blue (probably something to do with the pebbles i.e. no sand clouding the water). I wandered around the labrynth-like narrow streets of the old town, climbed the hill to be rewarded with an amazing view of the city and went for a quick dip in the sea (salty!). I treated myself to a meal (lordy, a real meal! Actually, it wasn't. It was only an entree. But good!) in a cute little rustic restaurant. The proprieter was an olive oil distributor who treated all of his guests to a free tasting (Charlie, where were you?!). I've never seen anybody get so enthusiastic over olive oil before. Bless him.

Today I went to the market. This is what I bought:

• a crusty baguette
• a locally grown tomato
• two nectarines
• one peach
• a piece of Roquefort cheese (Esther, I saw this and thought of you, so I bought it)
• one avocado
• one croissant cafè (disappointing. I thought the texture and taste would be like an eclair [Charlie what've you done to me - I'm craving eclairs!], but they weren't. It was more like cold pastizzi filled with hard, fake coffee praline. One bite and in the bin.)
• one sugared pink rose petal (musky)
• one sugared mint leaf (disappointing. Two nibbles and in the bin).

After a yummy breakfast I went to a contemporary art museum. It was very 'contemporary art'.

Tomorrow I'm day-tripping to Monaco. Exciting.

Now I'm off to the deep, blue sea (to see what I can see see see).

XO