IF I were a woman of few words I would sum up my time in Thailand as a veritable smorgasboard of cheap, flavoursome feasts, smily welcoming locals and blissful relaxation on the beach.
But, as previously established I AM NOT woman of few words, so here is a few MORE on the subject... : )
Despite the absolute amazing-ness of my European travels, I was determind to fit in as much as possible, so the pace was fairly manic. Thus , I decided before coming home to the ' real world' I would treat myself ( again) to some pure un-interrupted beach chill out time.
I'd planned to hit the Pehentian islands- off the coast of Malaysia because of my beloved sister's recommendations, but being the typhoon season ( duhhhh) it was completely flooded and closed to the public.
So, because I am flying home from K.L and it's relatively close, I decided on Thailand.
I'm slightly ashamed to say that in contrast to the other countries I visited, I made the cop-out decision to simply treat this time as a ' holiday.' Not a culture fest , not a sight-seeing extravaganza, not a language learning challenge, just an un-ashamed relaaaaxxxxx.
And it has been just that. : )
After leaving my lovely ma, I spent a painful 24 hours travelling/waiting/in transit and eventually found my way to Phuket. Refusing all of the more expensive 'taxi' options, I hitched a ride on the local bus, where the ticket collector was excessively helpful, the warm wind whipped through the open windows and giant palm trees lined the hilly roads. I had officially landed in the ' Land of Smiles!"
After getting so lost that the lovely hostel owner had to personally come and collect me, I stayed overnight in this funny little place, which doubled as this woman's home, and had incredible jungle-esque views . I bunked in with an English girl who , when I passed out after all the travelling, at 8:30 that night, kindly turned off my bedside light for me . awww.
The next day I was picked up by a mini bus at the hostel which proceeded to get bogged due to the tropical rain the night before. This resulted in a comedy skit- worthy exercise which involved every male in the vicinity and alot of pushing and grunting! Eventually we were freed and on our way.
I boarded the ferry and after a very rainy and slightly rocky ferry ride, landed on the tropical island of Ko Phi Phi.
Despite still being very wet and muddy, i knew I was onto a good thing, when the hostel I'd hurriedly booked just hours before, was nestled up in the hills overlooking a lake. My luck got even better when I barted my way into a private little cabin complete with bathroom for 2 weeks for just over 100 bucks! yes! It was perfect.
The next day the sun was shining and it was revealed to be truly a piece of paradise.
It takes me under five minutes to walk to the centre of town or to the beach and since then I've developed a delicious little routine.
Every morning I've been sleeping as late as I desire, then going for a walk along the beach. Then I return to my little cabin for a much needed cold shower( just a half hour power walk results in me looking as if I've already had a shower- fully dressed! the sweat literally drips off me ...mmm delicious! )
Then I visit a little cafe run by a friendly smiling family who laugh everytime when I say " Just the usual thanks!" The usual, is a mix of amazing fresh tropical fruit, homemade muesli and yoghurt. This may not sound that amazing to you, but anyone that knows me well, also knows that this is my idea of brekkie heaven!
Then providing the weather is good, which more often than not it has been , I'll hit the beach. And it's not just any beach, its literally a little strip of bliss. White sand, clear ocean, wooden boats and all bordered by palm covered mountains. I'll easily while away the day reading ( thus far my whole quota for the whole trip is approx 35 novels! ), sunbaking and soaking in the luke warm water. Then back home for another cold shower and then market browsing, writing of my script, and delcious Thai feasts at a selction of wonderful restaurants right on my doorstep.
As you probably know, due to the ridiculous amount of facebook messages and emails, ( thankyou so much ) I also celebrated my b'day here. I think it's probably the first time I've ever celebrated it solo. Yeah , I could easily have gone and gotten rip roaring drunk and made heapsa fickle friends, but I'd done enough of that in Europe. This was 'my' time.
So, I feasted all day. I lazed on the beach, I ate decadent icecreams and treated myself to a few highly toxic cocktails and then ended up at a lovely seaside restaurant. There I gorged myself on an amazing creation , aptly named the ' pineapple boat.' It's literally a whole hollowed out pineapple filled with roasted rice, raisins, fresh vegies and seafood. Delicious!
Bursting at the seams, but determind to have some sort of ' bday cake' , I squeezed in a Thai pancake - basically a butter laden crepe, folded over itself and then coated in lemon and sugar.
Not a bad b'day by all accounts!
I did eat some dodgy seafood at one stage and spent a painful 2 days holed up in my room. But it rained those days and then as soon as I was able to manage plain rice again- the sun started shining, so it wasn't that bad.
I feel so grateful to have has these two weeks, Thailand has been the perfect conclusion to a truly mindblowing trip.
Many of you would know that I have wanted to travel to Europe for.. well.. FOREVER and I can honestly say I'm quite proud of myself for finally fulfilling the dream.
A small part of me is sad that it's all coming to an end. But the main part of me is a giggly, excited ball of anticipation. I've got a whole new adventure with my man to look forward to. And Chrissie and Merideth etc too! Bring. it. on.
I'm so looking forward to coming home and hearing all of your adventures too my friends. Thankyou for caring enough to read about mine.
I'm very lucky to have you and so excited to see you.
Until then,bon voyage xoxo
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Maman et moi -France&Italy!!!! oui oui!! : )
Dedicated to my dear parents- a truly inspiring pair xo
It's fair to say, that it is because of my mum and dad, that us girls were born with the inbuilt travel bug.
So when mum, in her usual caring and 'always thinking of everyone else before herself ' manner, suggested that maybe, if it wasn't cramping my style, and ONLY if I was sure, she might like to join me when i hit France, I was RAPT.
Honest to god, I'm weird like that, the thought of sipping coffee and munching on fresh crossaints with my frenchie friend/mum filled me with glee!
So after much reassurance on my part, and the firm yet gentle encouragement of my ever supportive and precious dad, the plans were put in place.
Actually, its fair to say, that I was rather preoccupied with the earlier parts of my trip, so mum did most of the planning.
And my god, her planning was good.
Coming from sunny Spain, the skys seemed duller, they were definately rainier, but my spirits couldn't have been higher. I was back in gay Pareee darhhling! And.. I was about to meet up with one of my favourite women in the world.
After succesfully tackling the Metro and, with luggage in one hand and my brolly in the other, I managed to navigate myself to 'our' address.
Our VERY OWN PARISIAN APARTMENT- if you don't mind!
(One of the many plus-es of travelling with mum was her insistence that we stay in better than average accomodation, which after months of schlepping it in hostels, I was NOT complaining about.)
And then, silently congratulating myself on my improved sense of direction AND punctuality, and with rain dripping off my nose, I waited. After a while, a taxi crawled it's way through the cobblestone streets and stopped right infront of me. The passenger was preoccupied with paying, but then she turned and started laughing, because there I was grinning madly and waving at her through the window.
Mother and daughter re-united.
After much hugging and gleeful giggling, we made our way up the tiny twirly staircase that led to our first floor front door. And entered a dream come true!It was perfect. Spacious and light filled with bright moroccon-esque furnishing and windows which had wooden shutters that opened right onto the bustling street.We could not believe our luck.
For a whole week we could completely immerse oursleves in the heart of Paris and pretend to be genuine Frenchies! Bliss!
We wasted no time in catching up on each other's news over a genuine cafe au lait ( coffee with milk) and a fresh chevre ( goats cheese) baguette. ( A meal which would be repeated a ridiculous amount!) mmmmmm :)
The next week flew by in a fabulous flurry of rich, mouth watering food ,easy , fun company and surreal sights which I'd seen pictures of since I was a child.
We woke up every morning to the hustle and bustle of the Parisians going about their morning routines and we quickly developed a lovely routine of our own. I would go out for a walk, enabling mum to have a precious lie in with a good book. I would soon return though, with a fresh, warm French baguette from the local boulangerie ( not sure how to spell it, but it's basically a delectable smelling bakery!) We'd then feast at our little kitchen table on this fluffy, more-ish bread, with pots of berry jam and tea. Perfection...
During the week, we climbed to the very top of the Eiffel tower( well as high as you can go before they make you take a lift!)
This is no easy feat , either I might add. Incase you failed to notice, that thing, is tall! The view however was well worth it.
I visited the Louvre, where I was surprised and a little amused to find myself being quite moved by the Mona Lisa . Maybe there was even a tiny tear shed. Maybe :)
We roared with laughter over a one man show called " how to be a Parisian ", which was basically just a piss-take of all the snobby,snooty ( surprisingly factual) stereotypes about Parisian people.
We celebrated Mum's b'day. I insisted on creating the traditional Smyrk family ' b'day chair' and declared it a day of essential COMPLETE over-indulgence. A challenge which we both completed admirably.
We scoffed down more delectable, rich , traditional food, polished off many a bottle of vino and toasted mum with Cassis and champagne. That night there also happened to be street festival of 'light' which I insisted I'd set up earlier with the relevant authorities in honour of mum! ( such power!) It was stunning and it's overall theme was 'embrace everyones' differences' which again , we happily toasted!
After a week,we were sad to say goodbye to our little Parisian home, but our 'schedule' told us it was time to move on. Baguette and take away coffee in hand, we caught the train to Aux En Provence ( sorry if I've murdered the spelling again!)
It was lovely and sunny here, which was a welcome change and the market filled streets were lined with rows of leafy trees.
Here we continued to consume ridiculous amounts of cheese and wine and saw a fantastic little French string/ brass quartet. Despite my school - girl French, I was able to enjoy it thoroughly , due mainly to the theatrics and European melodrama of the lead singer- fun!
Oh.. AND I headbutted a waiter. Yep. Well, his tray at least. He was coming to our table with a tray of drinks that we'd ordered and I leant forward at just the right/ wrong time and headbutted his tray. This basically resulted in a whole glass of wine whacking me on the forehead and then emptying itself all over me! I literally had wine dripping off my nose...The waiter was horrified and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Mum laughed. Alot. So did I... after a wrung out my hair . Classic me. :)
After a few days in this lovely warm town, we caught another train to Marseillles. This time mum's choice of hotels, literally left us speechless ( which, as I'm sure you know, is NOT a common occurence for me!)
Our window was perched on the edge of a very pictureresque cliff face which was directly ontop of the ocean. A tiny turn to right,and there was our very own, gem of a beach. Amazing.
To celebrate our good fortune, we ate THE MOST DELICIOUS fresh, balsamic and goats cheese baguettes and drank ice cold wine ( sensing a dining theme yet?!)
The next few days were passed in a blissful haze of sunbaking on our little beach and eating dips and crackers by our window as the sun set over the ocean.
Again, we were reluctant to leave this fantastic find, but our track record was getting good, so I trusted the next place would be just as brilliant. It was. Another train ride and we arrived in Nice. VERY Nice . he he :)
We stayed in this funny little hotel called Hotel Paradise , which was situated smack bang next to the Armani and the Gucci store. ( Yet disgracefully, every morning we emerged in our t-shirts and jeans- nothing but couture for us!)
We spent our days wandering along the Cote d' Azur, which well and truly live up to it's name, and we explored a fantastic food/flower/souvenir market. We drank frothy cappucinos and cheered a three piece jazz/American folk (!?) band which was playing in the middle of the square. We then ate the most amazing ( your guessed it ) goats cheese burgers and crunchy homemade pomme frites ( chips!) Just writing about that meal makes my mouth water...
The next day after practising our pronunciatian an annoying amount of times we took the train to Ventimigla- Italy baby!
We hadn't planned to stop over here, but there was another massive transport strike in France and we were advised to get out while we could. So thus we landed in Italy a day early, without the comfort blanket of Mum's fabulous french speaking.
And let me tell you. This place was a perfect introduction to Italian food. oh. my. god.
We squeezed our way into a little local bar, with loud talking, grey haired Italian men on one side and glamourous dark haired women on the other. Gleefully we feasted on free tapas ( yep free- with every drink!) and wine.
Then we discovered a little restaurant hidden away down a little street, where the atmosphere was warm and so were the staff, who kept plying us with sparkling wine and free spirits. I ate probably the best pasta of my life. Basic spag bol , but with fresh , amazing ingredients, that made me want to eat it over and over again. If only I wasnt so damn full ....
The next day we trained it to a huge central station , aptly named St Lucia (!!) and before we knew it we were standing on the banks of the grand canal- Venice. And once again- (incredibly) lost for words.
It was just like all the pictures , but with so much more. Dappled light played off the water and real life gondalas drfited down stream, laden down with singing men in striped shirts and boating hats! Wow.
A kindly old Italian stereotype of a man insisted on leading us ( over sooo many steps, with our luggage) straight to our hotel. And refused to accept payment, simply tipped his hat and twinkled his eyes. Lovely.
It was a funny little place which reminded me of someone's fussy grandma's house- groaning with trinkets and pictures of jesus and ( weirdly) a real life pet parrot!
We settled in nicely to our little room, which once more had shutters which opened right onto the cobblestone alleyway.
The night called for a magical toast overlooking the sparkling canal, complete with free fat olives and oily bruschetta.
I arose each morning to get in a jog up and over the many bridges which characterise this city. I'd return to join mum for a free brekkie, served painstakingly by our landlady, and then we'd venture out together into our little street.
And EVERY morning, as the sunlight dappled across the water and we marvelled about the glorious lack of cars, we stood still for a moment and just drank in the view. It was quite surreal.
We passed a lovely few days, wandering through alleys of markets, eating fresh gelato, and adoring the anticipation of yet another evening meal of truly amazing food.
We went to the Peggy Guggenheim museum which was a very impressive collection of artworks by practically every master, BEFORE they became a master. This woman practically dicovered and nurtered Picasso!
I was surprised by my reaction to a nighttime concert that we went to. It was opera, which i was slightly indifferent towards, but interested in. It was also a selection of Vivaldi classics, and despite my initial misgivings, it reduced both mum and me to tears.
We rode a very touristing ferry right along the grand canal and ate pastries and coffee in the sun.
A particularly memorable meal ( one of many) was a simple salad in the afternoon light, in a restaurant which was literally sitting RIGHT on the canal. Fun!
I soon truly realised why everyone always assumes I'm Italian ( apart from my name!)
Many of the women looked much more like my sisters than my actual sisters!
And, if I wasn't happily taken, mum kept boasting that she could have easily ' sold me off' to a million potential suitors!
Some of the Italian men were hilarious. After being informed that yes, I do have a boyfriend, one man dropped to his knees, clutching his heart and making sound effects - " You hear that sound? that is the sound of my heart breaking!!!" and... " Oh your name is Lucia, you know that means light? And its true, you are the light of my life , you light up my tunnel of darkness!" Hilarious.
Love a bit of drama in a man!
Our next stop, after reluctantly tearing oursleves away from Venice was Florence. Which I knew very little about. Apart from that red headed talent who sings and has a machine : )
And I adored it.
We were staying in one of the most amazing hotels yet. It was literally an old medi-evil building which had ( kind of) been converted into a hotel. Our room looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel, complete with a roof mural and windows that opened right into the city centre, with a perfect view of the famous Dome of Diamo.
We spent our mornings having brekkie delivered to our " chambers" and then ( just for a change) wandered markets and ate amazing risotto, salads, pasta and thin crispy crusted pizzas. We even claimed a 'local' bar- which boasted endless free bruschetta every evening ( a very filling danger when planning to follow it with a full meal- but too delicious to ignore!)
Mum explored a few museums which i couldnt afford and individually we climbed up our neighbouring Diamo- up an endless stone winding staircase which resulted in a spectacular mural on the domed roof and a wonderful view of the city.
We went along to a fun fully costumed opera, whihc was suitably melodramatic and entertaining.
Mum very generously ( with the help of my ALSO very generous friends) bought me an early birthday gift of a gorgeous pair of genuine suede ankle boots, which i will wear with Florence in my footsteps!
Then it was time to see Michalangelo's famous little pant-less friend. We were both kind of expecting ' David' to be just like all the pictures- impressive and a must- see, but not mindblowing.
It was mindblowing.
The second we walked into the hall where he is displayed in all his glory, we simply stopped and stared. It is a total work of incredible art. And my god he's huge! ( although surprisingly not in the manhood department ; ) )
WE watched everyone entering the hall and they all had exactly the same awe-struck reaction that we did.
Like so many of the sights I saw around Europe, it was something I's seen so many replications of, I just wasnt prepared for the everlasting impression the real thing could have. Truly breathtaking.
Then to Rome, where again we were blown away by the mammoth, slightly gruesome ruins of the Colleseum and then the Pantheon. Such history, some of it so unfair- yet fascinating.
And then, before we knew it, and we couldnt quite believe it, our shared european adventure was coming to a close.
I cheekily declared our last day another occasion of 'essential, complete overindulgence!' and we basically spent the whole day eating. Bliss : ) Gelato, pastries, spinach and ricotto canneloni, meatballs, garlic pizza, and blueberry pie! S
uitably sated and ridicululously full, we collapsed into out lovely hotel room ( complete with mini chandeliers- mum had decided to lash out!)
The next morning , in true mum style, she insisted on accompaning me to the airport, even though this meant she would then have to wait there for her flight for hours. It was a lovely gesture though and meant we could have one last brekkie feast together( albiet airport style.)
When we squeezed each other goodbye, I started to well up. We had just shared a truly memorable and indescribable experience. As mother and daughter/ addicted travellers/massive foodies and dearest friends, we had combined our love for Europe, with our love for each other and the result was a trip which will always be fondly and firmly embedded in a very special corner of my heart. J'adore maman. xx
It's fair to say, that it is because of my mum and dad, that us girls were born with the inbuilt travel bug.
So when mum, in her usual caring and 'always thinking of everyone else before herself ' manner, suggested that maybe, if it wasn't cramping my style, and ONLY if I was sure, she might like to join me when i hit France, I was RAPT.
Honest to god, I'm weird like that, the thought of sipping coffee and munching on fresh crossaints with my frenchie friend/mum filled me with glee!
So after much reassurance on my part, and the firm yet gentle encouragement of my ever supportive and precious dad, the plans were put in place.
Actually, its fair to say, that I was rather preoccupied with the earlier parts of my trip, so mum did most of the planning.
And my god, her planning was good.
Coming from sunny Spain, the skys seemed duller, they were definately rainier, but my spirits couldn't have been higher. I was back in gay Pareee darhhling! And.. I was about to meet up with one of my favourite women in the world.
After succesfully tackling the Metro and, with luggage in one hand and my brolly in the other, I managed to navigate myself to 'our' address.
Our VERY OWN PARISIAN APARTMENT- if you don't mind!
(One of the many plus-es of travelling with mum was her insistence that we stay in better than average accomodation, which after months of schlepping it in hostels, I was NOT complaining about.)
And then, silently congratulating myself on my improved sense of direction AND punctuality, and with rain dripping off my nose, I waited. After a while, a taxi crawled it's way through the cobblestone streets and stopped right infront of me. The passenger was preoccupied with paying, but then she turned and started laughing, because there I was grinning madly and waving at her through the window.
Mother and daughter re-united.
After much hugging and gleeful giggling, we made our way up the tiny twirly staircase that led to our first floor front door. And entered a dream come true!It was perfect. Spacious and light filled with bright moroccon-esque furnishing and windows which had wooden shutters that opened right onto the bustling street.We could not believe our luck.
For a whole week we could completely immerse oursleves in the heart of Paris and pretend to be genuine Frenchies! Bliss!
We wasted no time in catching up on each other's news over a genuine cafe au lait ( coffee with milk) and a fresh chevre ( goats cheese) baguette. ( A meal which would be repeated a ridiculous amount!) mmmmmm :)
The next week flew by in a fabulous flurry of rich, mouth watering food ,easy , fun company and surreal sights which I'd seen pictures of since I was a child.
We woke up every morning to the hustle and bustle of the Parisians going about their morning routines and we quickly developed a lovely routine of our own. I would go out for a walk, enabling mum to have a precious lie in with a good book. I would soon return though, with a fresh, warm French baguette from the local boulangerie ( not sure how to spell it, but it's basically a delectable smelling bakery!) We'd then feast at our little kitchen table on this fluffy, more-ish bread, with pots of berry jam and tea. Perfection...
During the week, we climbed to the very top of the Eiffel tower( well as high as you can go before they make you take a lift!)
This is no easy feat , either I might add. Incase you failed to notice, that thing, is tall! The view however was well worth it.
I visited the Louvre, where I was surprised and a little amused to find myself being quite moved by the Mona Lisa . Maybe there was even a tiny tear shed. Maybe :)
We roared with laughter over a one man show called " how to be a Parisian ", which was basically just a piss-take of all the snobby,snooty ( surprisingly factual) stereotypes about Parisian people.
We celebrated Mum's b'day. I insisted on creating the traditional Smyrk family ' b'day chair' and declared it a day of essential COMPLETE over-indulgence. A challenge which we both completed admirably.
We scoffed down more delectable, rich , traditional food, polished off many a bottle of vino and toasted mum with Cassis and champagne. That night there also happened to be street festival of 'light' which I insisted I'd set up earlier with the relevant authorities in honour of mum! ( such power!) It was stunning and it's overall theme was 'embrace everyones' differences' which again , we happily toasted!
After a week,we were sad to say goodbye to our little Parisian home, but our 'schedule' told us it was time to move on. Baguette and take away coffee in hand, we caught the train to Aux En Provence ( sorry if I've murdered the spelling again!)
It was lovely and sunny here, which was a welcome change and the market filled streets were lined with rows of leafy trees.
Here we continued to consume ridiculous amounts of cheese and wine and saw a fantastic little French string/ brass quartet. Despite my school - girl French, I was able to enjoy it thoroughly , due mainly to the theatrics and European melodrama of the lead singer- fun!
Oh.. AND I headbutted a waiter. Yep. Well, his tray at least. He was coming to our table with a tray of drinks that we'd ordered and I leant forward at just the right/ wrong time and headbutted his tray. This basically resulted in a whole glass of wine whacking me on the forehead and then emptying itself all over me! I literally had wine dripping off my nose...The waiter was horrified and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Mum laughed. Alot. So did I... after a wrung out my hair . Classic me. :)
After a few days in this lovely warm town, we caught another train to Marseillles. This time mum's choice of hotels, literally left us speechless ( which, as I'm sure you know, is NOT a common occurence for me!)
Our window was perched on the edge of a very pictureresque cliff face which was directly ontop of the ocean. A tiny turn to right,and there was our very own, gem of a beach. Amazing.
To celebrate our good fortune, we ate THE MOST DELICIOUS fresh, balsamic and goats cheese baguettes and drank ice cold wine ( sensing a dining theme yet?!)
The next few days were passed in a blissful haze of sunbaking on our little beach and eating dips and crackers by our window as the sun set over the ocean.
Again, we were reluctant to leave this fantastic find, but our track record was getting good, so I trusted the next place would be just as brilliant. It was. Another train ride and we arrived in Nice. VERY Nice . he he :)
We stayed in this funny little hotel called Hotel Paradise , which was situated smack bang next to the Armani and the Gucci store. ( Yet disgracefully, every morning we emerged in our t-shirts and jeans- nothing but couture for us!)
We spent our days wandering along the Cote d' Azur, which well and truly live up to it's name, and we explored a fantastic food/flower/souvenir market. We drank frothy cappucinos and cheered a three piece jazz/American folk (!?) band which was playing in the middle of the square. We then ate the most amazing ( your guessed it ) goats cheese burgers and crunchy homemade pomme frites ( chips!) Just writing about that meal makes my mouth water...
The next day after practising our pronunciatian an annoying amount of times we took the train to Ventimigla- Italy baby!
We hadn't planned to stop over here, but there was another massive transport strike in France and we were advised to get out while we could. So thus we landed in Italy a day early, without the comfort blanket of Mum's fabulous french speaking.
And let me tell you. This place was a perfect introduction to Italian food. oh. my. god.
We squeezed our way into a little local bar, with loud talking, grey haired Italian men on one side and glamourous dark haired women on the other. Gleefully we feasted on free tapas ( yep free- with every drink!) and wine.
Then we discovered a little restaurant hidden away down a little street, where the atmosphere was warm and so were the staff, who kept plying us with sparkling wine and free spirits. I ate probably the best pasta of my life. Basic spag bol , but with fresh , amazing ingredients, that made me want to eat it over and over again. If only I wasnt so damn full ....
The next day we trained it to a huge central station , aptly named St Lucia (!!) and before we knew it we were standing on the banks of the grand canal- Venice. And once again- (incredibly) lost for words.
It was just like all the pictures , but with so much more. Dappled light played off the water and real life gondalas drfited down stream, laden down with singing men in striped shirts and boating hats! Wow.
A kindly old Italian stereotype of a man insisted on leading us ( over sooo many steps, with our luggage) straight to our hotel. And refused to accept payment, simply tipped his hat and twinkled his eyes. Lovely.
It was a funny little place which reminded me of someone's fussy grandma's house- groaning with trinkets and pictures of jesus and ( weirdly) a real life pet parrot!
We settled in nicely to our little room, which once more had shutters which opened right onto the cobblestone alleyway.
The night called for a magical toast overlooking the sparkling canal, complete with free fat olives and oily bruschetta.
I arose each morning to get in a jog up and over the many bridges which characterise this city. I'd return to join mum for a free brekkie, served painstakingly by our landlady, and then we'd venture out together into our little street.
And EVERY morning, as the sunlight dappled across the water and we marvelled about the glorious lack of cars, we stood still for a moment and just drank in the view. It was quite surreal.
We passed a lovely few days, wandering through alleys of markets, eating fresh gelato, and adoring the anticipation of yet another evening meal of truly amazing food.
We went to the Peggy Guggenheim museum which was a very impressive collection of artworks by practically every master, BEFORE they became a master. This woman practically dicovered and nurtered Picasso!
I was surprised by my reaction to a nighttime concert that we went to. It was opera, which i was slightly indifferent towards, but interested in. It was also a selection of Vivaldi classics, and despite my initial misgivings, it reduced both mum and me to tears.
We rode a very touristing ferry right along the grand canal and ate pastries and coffee in the sun.
A particularly memorable meal ( one of many) was a simple salad in the afternoon light, in a restaurant which was literally sitting RIGHT on the canal. Fun!
I soon truly realised why everyone always assumes I'm Italian ( apart from my name!)
Many of the women looked much more like my sisters than my actual sisters!
And, if I wasn't happily taken, mum kept boasting that she could have easily ' sold me off' to a million potential suitors!
Some of the Italian men were hilarious. After being informed that yes, I do have a boyfriend, one man dropped to his knees, clutching his heart and making sound effects - " You hear that sound? that is the sound of my heart breaking!!!" and... " Oh your name is Lucia, you know that means light? And its true, you are the light of my life , you light up my tunnel of darkness!" Hilarious.
Love a bit of drama in a man!
Our next stop, after reluctantly tearing oursleves away from Venice was Florence. Which I knew very little about. Apart from that red headed talent who sings and has a machine : )
And I adored it.
We were staying in one of the most amazing hotels yet. It was literally an old medi-evil building which had ( kind of) been converted into a hotel. Our room looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel, complete with a roof mural and windows that opened right into the city centre, with a perfect view of the famous Dome of Diamo.
We spent our mornings having brekkie delivered to our " chambers" and then ( just for a change) wandered markets and ate amazing risotto, salads, pasta and thin crispy crusted pizzas. We even claimed a 'local' bar- which boasted endless free bruschetta every evening ( a very filling danger when planning to follow it with a full meal- but too delicious to ignore!)
Mum explored a few museums which i couldnt afford and individually we climbed up our neighbouring Diamo- up an endless stone winding staircase which resulted in a spectacular mural on the domed roof and a wonderful view of the city.
We went along to a fun fully costumed opera, whihc was suitably melodramatic and entertaining.
Mum very generously ( with the help of my ALSO very generous friends) bought me an early birthday gift of a gorgeous pair of genuine suede ankle boots, which i will wear with Florence in my footsteps!
Then it was time to see Michalangelo's famous little pant-less friend. We were both kind of expecting ' David' to be just like all the pictures- impressive and a must- see, but not mindblowing.
It was mindblowing.
The second we walked into the hall where he is displayed in all his glory, we simply stopped and stared. It is a total work of incredible art. And my god he's huge! ( although surprisingly not in the manhood department ; ) )
WE watched everyone entering the hall and they all had exactly the same awe-struck reaction that we did.
Like so many of the sights I saw around Europe, it was something I's seen so many replications of, I just wasnt prepared for the everlasting impression the real thing could have. Truly breathtaking.
Then to Rome, where again we were blown away by the mammoth, slightly gruesome ruins of the Colleseum and then the Pantheon. Such history, some of it so unfair- yet fascinating.
And then, before we knew it, and we couldnt quite believe it, our shared european adventure was coming to a close.
I cheekily declared our last day another occasion of 'essential, complete overindulgence!' and we basically spent the whole day eating. Bliss : ) Gelato, pastries, spinach and ricotto canneloni, meatballs, garlic pizza, and blueberry pie! S
uitably sated and ridicululously full, we collapsed into out lovely hotel room ( complete with mini chandeliers- mum had decided to lash out!)
The next morning , in true mum style, she insisted on accompaning me to the airport, even though this meant she would then have to wait there for her flight for hours. It was a lovely gesture though and meant we could have one last brekkie feast together( albiet airport style.)
When we squeezed each other goodbye, I started to well up. We had just shared a truly memorable and indescribable experience. As mother and daughter/ addicted travellers/massive foodies and dearest friends, we had combined our love for Europe, with our love for each other and the result was a trip which will always be fondly and firmly embedded in a very special corner of my heart. J'adore maman. xx
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Marvelous,magical, mindblowing Morocco!!!!!!
Before I set off, my knowledge of this exotic, fascinating country was quite limited... I'd been told by many trusted seasoned travellers, that it was one of their travel highlights, one of my favourite places to gorge on good food in Melbourne is the Moroccon Soup Kitchen, and I'd been advised not to travel to this elusive country alone.
So, after a drunken, excited conversation,which thankfully soon became cemented as a real life plan,I found myself at Marakesh airport waiting to meet up with my dear friend Boomer (aka-James, he he...)
We caught a cab to our hostel, which I'd randomly selected off a site which I should really be getting commision from by now- Hostelworld. And this time, it truly delivered what it promised. After being safely escorted right to the front door by an eager little local boy, keen to practise his English ('gday mate,skippy'), we arrived and both stopped still in amazement. It felt as if we had just jumped on a magic carpet and sailed right onto the set of Aladdin or Arabian nights. Exotic, colourful carpets lined the walls, colourful stained glass lamps glowed and polished silver teapots winked at us invitingly. Grinning, not quite believing our luck, I suddenly forgot how tired I'd been earlier, and we ventured out into the streets to explore.
Having travelled to Asia, I was marginally prepared for the roaring motorbikes carrying whole families, the streetstalls boasting every treat imaginable and the all encompassing atmosphere that seeps into your veins. Even though we only had the energy for a short stroll, already this felt like the perfect mix of Asia, Africa and Europe all crazily rolled into one! We loved it ...
We awoke to a home cooked meal of Morrocon pancakes dripping with thick cinnamony honey and the local tea which is sweet and pepperminty and delicious. For lunch we stumbled across a gem of a local cafe; Seated on a balcony overlooking the whole city, we feasted on Morrocon style tapas, rich flavoursome eggplant, crusty bread and crushed carrot dip, mmm. That night we hunted out a Lonely Planet reommendation, which soon become our 'local.' Surrounded by draped silks and swinging lanterns; we sipped strawberry cocktails and watched the stunning sunset, as the amplified prayer chants rang out over the whole city. Then to the glorious , exciting, overwhelming markets, which we visited and went a little crazy at for the next few nights. Unable to resist the rows of stunning silver jewellery and bright fabrics, we bought gifts and treats, got dragged into a family's personal silk factory, and drank fresh o.j packed in amongst the locals- Wonderful.
Before we knew it, our time in this crazy, addictive town was up and it was time for the next adventure... the Sahara!
We were up early and rearing to go . Packed into a bus, with a group of Spanish, French, Dutch and our local driver, it made for an entertaining ride! Everything the bus driver said, was then translated into French (the second language in Morocco after Arabic, is French) , then English - then Spanish! My many years of charades practice sure came in handy...
We drove for a whole day, stopping off to expore sandstone ruins, eat a feast at a local cafe and stop at a family business which hand wove rugs. I couldnt resist and bought a small one for Brad and I; its bright red and made from Poppies and Camel hair and signifies love and good luck and... fertility (!?)
That night we stayed in yet another amazing Aladdin-esque place where they loaded us up with a feast of chicken and chickpea tagine and fresh melon for dessert. Unfortunately Boomer developed 'Moroccon belly' that night, but managed to still make it for the next leg. More driving , we visited our bus driver's family home and were served tea and home made Moroccon sweets and then finally we saw them- stretching out infront of us, the huge ,rolling, peaked sand dunes...with lines of blinking camels patiently waiting.
Without any hesitation, we were loaded onto these gentle giants and before we knew it we were off. It was the most surreal, amazing experience. On top of these incredible creatures, bobbing up and down; through endless sand, watching the sun set over the plains. Incredible. It was dark by the time we arrived at the ready made camp. Before long we were sitting on cushions in the sand, festing on yet another delicious tagine, playing bongo drums and smoking some sneaky Morrocon hash (strong stuff!) Just as we were all getting ready to pass out, our guides suggested a walk up the dunes. Unable to resist we did and my god... I thought I was pretty fit! But woah... By the time we reached the top our legs were aching and we had well and truly worked off the tagine! But the view.. wow, that was worth it. We were literally sitting on the peak of this gigantic sand dune looking out over the lights of far off towns, surrounded by a sea of stars ...magic!
On the walk back a mini sanstorm started up and it was pretty painful and made us wonder how the hell people ever trekked through the whole Sahara..amazing...
That night we slept outside under the stars on thin matresses in the Sahara sand.
(Thought that deserved a line of its own!)
Amongst the perfectness,unfortunately I too developed this so called 'Morrocon belly', which is not the nicest thing to have in the middle of the desert! After many a tummy pill though, we were up before sunrise , on our trusty camels again and back to the bus.
We drove with the others to a small town, where upon bidding them goodbye,we were stuck in a dirty,smelly station , with our dodgy bellies, feeling sorry for ourselves because we'd be misinformed and had just found out we would have to wait 14 hours for a bus! Thankfully an extremely helpful policeman took pity on us and somehow organised his ' mate' to sort it out! Which is how we found ourselves being shoved onto the back of a small , VERY hot mini bus, jampacked with noisy locals, whose kids stared unabashedly at us-the weird looking ' whities!'
They dumped us on the side of a road, where a guy picked us up in his ' private taxi', who then took us to a ' secret' meeting place where he met his other mate in his 'private' taxi. We guessed some sly money had exchanged hands, but went along with it, as the price was reasonable, and we were now facing an 8 hour trip in airconditioned, private comfort( instead of a sweaty, noisy, squashed public bus.)
The driver took us to a little local town on the way, where all our fragile bellies could stomach was a banana and a plain cracker or two. But that didnt stop our guide, whilst he plyed us with sweet traditional mint tea, he howed down on fresh goat and bread. This was slightly disconcerting to see, because right next to our table hung three freshly skinned goat carcesses, with furry heads intact and dripping blood. eeewww.. if our tummies weren't already a bit off, well this sealed the deal!
Many hours and snoozes later, we arrived in the bustling, humid Fez, and by god we were glad we had decided to lash out and spoil ourselves.
After the amazing, but slightly sweaty and gastro-ey desert, it was bliss to arrive at a slightly swanky,(but still so Moroccon) clean hotel room, with a strong hot shower and a view over a mammoth pool.
We stomached plainish but delish hotel food and slept like babies in the freshly made beds that night...
The next morning we both woke up grinning at the fact that we were hungry and starting to feel normal in the tummy region again. Hurrah!
We feasted on the free hotel brekkie and set off to explore. Hitching a ride in the back of a hilariously dodgy trailor attached to a motorbike, we arrived in the medina ( centre of town.)
Yet another mindblowing Aladdin-esque treasure trove, where we went a little crazy on well priced gifts and were befriended by a little local boy who insisted on giving us a 'free' tour of the sights. He took us to his father's business, the 'tannery' where we saw how they make all their leather goods, then to his 'uncle's' restaurant, where we feasted on delicious Moroccon salads, and then were dragged to his ' other uncle's' rug making shop. I proceeded to be railroaded ( not entirely unintentionally into buying a stunning raw silk bed spread made with camel hair and natural poppy dyes. It looks like a Moroccon sunset and I AM slightly in love with it.
We then were guilted into tipping our 'free' little boy tourguide. ( when we first gave him a few coins he glared at us and wailed , " But this is NOTHING!" Remembering he SWORE to us, his company was FREE....freely conned! ah well : )
That night we ate fresh pasta at a lovely little Italian place(go figure!) and relished drinking alcohol on our newly mended bellies.
The next day we experience THE HOTTEST, SWEATIEST trainride in THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD! We arrived after 4 hours, dripping, exhausted, but excited to be there....in Casablanca!
Frankly my dear.. I DO give a damn!
Our hotel room was bright and carpeted and lovely, and we freshened up before walking through the local haunts , to a roadside stall selling fresh pita bread stuffed with freshly grilled green peppers and potato patties( me) and spicy ,tasty meat(Booms.)
We took these and cold drinks back to the top outdoor terrace of the hotel and ate them overlooking the nightlights of Casablanca reminiscing about all of our shared adventures.
The next morning, we didnt need to bother setting our alarms..the loud, city- wide , projected prayer calls woke us. A fitting end to an amazing cultural experience.
We packed up our bags, went downstairs for a complimentary brekkie of fresh bread and mint tea, and were on our way to the airport.
A quick squeeze and a fond farewell, and there we both were again...lone Aussie travellers....with VERY special shared memories and many more special solo adventures in store... For me...back to sunny ol' Spain! OLE! xooooox
So, after a drunken, excited conversation,which thankfully soon became cemented as a real life plan,I found myself at Marakesh airport waiting to meet up with my dear friend Boomer (aka-James, he he...)
We caught a cab to our hostel, which I'd randomly selected off a site which I should really be getting commision from by now- Hostelworld. And this time, it truly delivered what it promised. After being safely escorted right to the front door by an eager little local boy, keen to practise his English ('gday mate,skippy'), we arrived and both stopped still in amazement. It felt as if we had just jumped on a magic carpet and sailed right onto the set of Aladdin or Arabian nights. Exotic, colourful carpets lined the walls, colourful stained glass lamps glowed and polished silver teapots winked at us invitingly. Grinning, not quite believing our luck, I suddenly forgot how tired I'd been earlier, and we ventured out into the streets to explore.
Having travelled to Asia, I was marginally prepared for the roaring motorbikes carrying whole families, the streetstalls boasting every treat imaginable and the all encompassing atmosphere that seeps into your veins. Even though we only had the energy for a short stroll, already this felt like the perfect mix of Asia, Africa and Europe all crazily rolled into one! We loved it ...
We awoke to a home cooked meal of Morrocon pancakes dripping with thick cinnamony honey and the local tea which is sweet and pepperminty and delicious. For lunch we stumbled across a gem of a local cafe; Seated on a balcony overlooking the whole city, we feasted on Morrocon style tapas, rich flavoursome eggplant, crusty bread and crushed carrot dip, mmm. That night we hunted out a Lonely Planet reommendation, which soon become our 'local.' Surrounded by draped silks and swinging lanterns; we sipped strawberry cocktails and watched the stunning sunset, as the amplified prayer chants rang out over the whole city. Then to the glorious , exciting, overwhelming markets, which we visited and went a little crazy at for the next few nights. Unable to resist the rows of stunning silver jewellery and bright fabrics, we bought gifts and treats, got dragged into a family's personal silk factory, and drank fresh o.j packed in amongst the locals- Wonderful.
Before we knew it, our time in this crazy, addictive town was up and it was time for the next adventure... the Sahara!
We were up early and rearing to go . Packed into a bus, with a group of Spanish, French, Dutch and our local driver, it made for an entertaining ride! Everything the bus driver said, was then translated into French (the second language in Morocco after Arabic, is French) , then English - then Spanish! My many years of charades practice sure came in handy...
We drove for a whole day, stopping off to expore sandstone ruins, eat a feast at a local cafe and stop at a family business which hand wove rugs. I couldnt resist and bought a small one for Brad and I; its bright red and made from Poppies and Camel hair and signifies love and good luck and... fertility (!?)
That night we stayed in yet another amazing Aladdin-esque place where they loaded us up with a feast of chicken and chickpea tagine and fresh melon for dessert. Unfortunately Boomer developed 'Moroccon belly' that night, but managed to still make it for the next leg. More driving , we visited our bus driver's family home and were served tea and home made Moroccon sweets and then finally we saw them- stretching out infront of us, the huge ,rolling, peaked sand dunes...with lines of blinking camels patiently waiting.
Without any hesitation, we were loaded onto these gentle giants and before we knew it we were off. It was the most surreal, amazing experience. On top of these incredible creatures, bobbing up and down; through endless sand, watching the sun set over the plains. Incredible. It was dark by the time we arrived at the ready made camp. Before long we were sitting on cushions in the sand, festing on yet another delicious tagine, playing bongo drums and smoking some sneaky Morrocon hash (strong stuff!) Just as we were all getting ready to pass out, our guides suggested a walk up the dunes. Unable to resist we did and my god... I thought I was pretty fit! But woah... By the time we reached the top our legs were aching and we had well and truly worked off the tagine! But the view.. wow, that was worth it. We were literally sitting on the peak of this gigantic sand dune looking out over the lights of far off towns, surrounded by a sea of stars ...magic!
On the walk back a mini sanstorm started up and it was pretty painful and made us wonder how the hell people ever trekked through the whole Sahara..amazing...
That night we slept outside under the stars on thin matresses in the Sahara sand.
(Thought that deserved a line of its own!)
Amongst the perfectness,unfortunately I too developed this so called 'Morrocon belly', which is not the nicest thing to have in the middle of the desert! After many a tummy pill though, we were up before sunrise , on our trusty camels again and back to the bus.
We drove with the others to a small town, where upon bidding them goodbye,we were stuck in a dirty,smelly station , with our dodgy bellies, feeling sorry for ourselves because we'd be misinformed and had just found out we would have to wait 14 hours for a bus! Thankfully an extremely helpful policeman took pity on us and somehow organised his ' mate' to sort it out! Which is how we found ourselves being shoved onto the back of a small , VERY hot mini bus, jampacked with noisy locals, whose kids stared unabashedly at us-the weird looking ' whities!'
They dumped us on the side of a road, where a guy picked us up in his ' private taxi', who then took us to a ' secret' meeting place where he met his other mate in his 'private' taxi. We guessed some sly money had exchanged hands, but went along with it, as the price was reasonable, and we were now facing an 8 hour trip in airconditioned, private comfort( instead of a sweaty, noisy, squashed public bus.)
The driver took us to a little local town on the way, where all our fragile bellies could stomach was a banana and a plain cracker or two. But that didnt stop our guide, whilst he plyed us with sweet traditional mint tea, he howed down on fresh goat and bread. This was slightly disconcerting to see, because right next to our table hung three freshly skinned goat carcesses, with furry heads intact and dripping blood. eeewww.. if our tummies weren't already a bit off, well this sealed the deal!
Many hours and snoozes later, we arrived in the bustling, humid Fez, and by god we were glad we had decided to lash out and spoil ourselves.
After the amazing, but slightly sweaty and gastro-ey desert, it was bliss to arrive at a slightly swanky,(but still so Moroccon) clean hotel room, with a strong hot shower and a view over a mammoth pool.
We stomached plainish but delish hotel food and slept like babies in the freshly made beds that night...
The next morning we both woke up grinning at the fact that we were hungry and starting to feel normal in the tummy region again. Hurrah!
We feasted on the free hotel brekkie and set off to explore. Hitching a ride in the back of a hilariously dodgy trailor attached to a motorbike, we arrived in the medina ( centre of town.)
Yet another mindblowing Aladdin-esque treasure trove, where we went a little crazy on well priced gifts and were befriended by a little local boy who insisted on giving us a 'free' tour of the sights. He took us to his father's business, the 'tannery' where we saw how they make all their leather goods, then to his 'uncle's' restaurant, where we feasted on delicious Moroccon salads, and then were dragged to his ' other uncle's' rug making shop. I proceeded to be railroaded ( not entirely unintentionally into buying a stunning raw silk bed spread made with camel hair and natural poppy dyes. It looks like a Moroccon sunset and I AM slightly in love with it.
We then were guilted into tipping our 'free' little boy tourguide. ( when we first gave him a few coins he glared at us and wailed , " But this is NOTHING!" Remembering he SWORE to us, his company was FREE....freely conned! ah well : )
That night we ate fresh pasta at a lovely little Italian place(go figure!) and relished drinking alcohol on our newly mended bellies.
The next day we experience THE HOTTEST, SWEATIEST trainride in THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD! We arrived after 4 hours, dripping, exhausted, but excited to be there....in Casablanca!
Frankly my dear.. I DO give a damn!
Our hotel room was bright and carpeted and lovely, and we freshened up before walking through the local haunts , to a roadside stall selling fresh pita bread stuffed with freshly grilled green peppers and potato patties( me) and spicy ,tasty meat(Booms.)
We took these and cold drinks back to the top outdoor terrace of the hotel and ate them overlooking the nightlights of Casablanca reminiscing about all of our shared adventures.
The next morning, we didnt need to bother setting our alarms..the loud, city- wide , projected prayer calls woke us. A fitting end to an amazing cultural experience.
We packed up our bags, went downstairs for a complimentary brekkie of fresh bread and mint tea, and were on our way to the airport.
A quick squeeze and a fond farewell, and there we both were again...lone Aussie travellers....with VERY special shared memories and many more special solo adventures in store... For me...back to sunny ol' Spain! OLE! xooooox
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Portugal with me , myself and I...
Lisbon, Portugal. I arrived in the early eve, and yes, as promised my hotel was close to the airport, but this also meant it was wayyy out of town. No biggie, I was being a bit extravagant staying in a hotel ( without the s ) anyway. So, that night, instead of exploring these slighty seedy outskirts, I loaded up on goodies at the local store and had myself a little solo hotel picnic, complete with wine out of the toothbrush cup! all class...
The next morning, I transferred to a funky little hostel in the heart of Lisbon. It was run by an effusive, loud , fabulous portugese woman- Tatiana who was young and inviting ´my home is your home!' ( despite it not actually being her home!) The window next to my bed looked out directly onto the cobblestone alleyway below and by day, it was fascinating, but by night it was all mood lighting and accordian players and chinking of wine glasses- so European!!
For the next few days, I soaked up the atmosphere of the endless alleyways, frequented the beach and took myself on a few very enjoyable dinner dates...I discovered I´m quite a good conversationlist- hah!
Despite loving the vibe, and relishing yet another fascinating culture, some of the men made me feel a little uncomfortable.. whether it was because it was my first real time solo, or whether Portugese men ( as a gross generalisation) are simply more out there, I´m not sure...
Mostly it was harmless, a waiter giving me the bill and proclaiming, ' my table has been so much more beautiful with you sitting at it!' ha!, but sometimes it felt a bit more threatening.
One time I was sunbaking solo on a fairly busy ( but still very roomy!)beach , just out of Lisbon, when a middle aged man came and put his stuff down RIGHT next to me. He then proceeded to stare... and stare .... and yep.. still staring! Everytime I glanced his way, he smiled sleazily and slowly winked...ewww! I fantisised about knowing enough Portugese to verbally SLAP HIM IN THE FACE, but seeing as I was limited to very basic spanish, I simply gathered my things and settled on the opposite end of the beach. No biggie in the scheme of things, but a moment that has stuck with me, despite thankfully being overridden by all of the other wonderful Portugese moments.
A few days later, I caught a bus for hours to a little beach town called Portimao. And I instantly fell in love. The hostel was waaay out of town, but I felt like I was on a combination of the best school camp ever and one of my treasured family beach holidays!
I whiled away my nights, cooking up big summer salads in the shared kitchen and drinking wine by the pool or on the balcony overlooking the town. And spent my days, going for big walks and laps in the pool, then bus-ing it to the beach. Here the ocean was literally as aqua as can be and silky smooth, the beach was bordered by picturesque cliff faces and despite being sardined between a million locals, I loved it. I browned up and ate the local salads overlooking the water and just generally loved life.
As a side note.. I may very well have been Portugese OR Spanish in a former life... tourists AND locals stopped me and asked questions/ directions soo often. As soon as I opened my mouth the gig was up, but until then, it was lovely to role play!
After a few days of this rather delicious routine, I snapped myself back into ´on the move´mode and made my way on the early morning bus back to the Lisbon Airport. Next stop .. Morocco!! yeeehaahhhhh!!! xx
The next morning, I transferred to a funky little hostel in the heart of Lisbon. It was run by an effusive, loud , fabulous portugese woman- Tatiana who was young and inviting ´my home is your home!' ( despite it not actually being her home!) The window next to my bed looked out directly onto the cobblestone alleyway below and by day, it was fascinating, but by night it was all mood lighting and accordian players and chinking of wine glasses- so European!!
For the next few days, I soaked up the atmosphere of the endless alleyways, frequented the beach and took myself on a few very enjoyable dinner dates...I discovered I´m quite a good conversationlist- hah!
Despite loving the vibe, and relishing yet another fascinating culture, some of the men made me feel a little uncomfortable.. whether it was because it was my first real time solo, or whether Portugese men ( as a gross generalisation) are simply more out there, I´m not sure...
Mostly it was harmless, a waiter giving me the bill and proclaiming, ' my table has been so much more beautiful with you sitting at it!' ha!, but sometimes it felt a bit more threatening.
One time I was sunbaking solo on a fairly busy ( but still very roomy!)beach , just out of Lisbon, when a middle aged man came and put his stuff down RIGHT next to me. He then proceeded to stare... and stare .... and yep.. still staring! Everytime I glanced his way, he smiled sleazily and slowly winked...ewww! I fantisised about knowing enough Portugese to verbally SLAP HIM IN THE FACE, but seeing as I was limited to very basic spanish, I simply gathered my things and settled on the opposite end of the beach. No biggie in the scheme of things, but a moment that has stuck with me, despite thankfully being overridden by all of the other wonderful Portugese moments.
A few days later, I caught a bus for hours to a little beach town called Portimao. And I instantly fell in love. The hostel was waaay out of town, but I felt like I was on a combination of the best school camp ever and one of my treasured family beach holidays!
I whiled away my nights, cooking up big summer salads in the shared kitchen and drinking wine by the pool or on the balcony overlooking the town. And spent my days, going for big walks and laps in the pool, then bus-ing it to the beach. Here the ocean was literally as aqua as can be and silky smooth, the beach was bordered by picturesque cliff faces and despite being sardined between a million locals, I loved it. I browned up and ate the local salads overlooking the water and just generally loved life.
As a side note.. I may very well have been Portugese OR Spanish in a former life... tourists AND locals stopped me and asked questions/ directions soo often. As soon as I opened my mouth the gig was up, but until then, it was lovely to role play!
After a few days of this rather delicious routine, I snapped myself back into ´on the move´mode and made my way on the early morning bus back to the Lisbon Airport. Next stop .. Morocco!! yeeehaahhhhh!!! xx
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
wayyy overdue...Sweet paree and rock en seine...woop woop!
Let me start by saying, that I have not been slack with updating this blog because of lack of wonderful things to talk about.. quite the opposite infact. I've just been TOO damn busy having amazing , AMAZING adventures. So please excuse me my dear readers ( bahaha! thanks ma and pa!)
Now, thank god I take after my dear dad and keep a diary, or else there's no way I´d be able to remember all these incredible experiences. And they are WELL worth remembering. So..here goes...Beginning with Paris...ahhhh
I have my first experience of the atypical ´smooth´french man, when i first arrive in Pareee and am waiting for Boxy. After stopping myself from squealing everytime i remember, I'm actually IN FRANCE, I use my schoolgirl french to clumsily order a cappucino.
The waiter is an old french dude, who is just a regular old dude till he opens his mouth and ... that accent!! And then, he cups my face in his hand and says in stilted english..'Perfect, simply perfect!' SWOOOOON!!
I soon snap out of it however when i see my dear old friend Boxy, who is less inclined to shower me with cliches and more inclined to tell me to ´ fuck off ´ ( in a totally loving, brotherly way!)
That night I´m highly amused ( and secretly impressed) to see just how much Boxy has embraced and flourished in this foreign , foodie culture. He insists on taking me , 2 canadian girls and an irish couple, who he´d befriended earlier, to an amazing Moroccon (?? go figure) restaurant he´d discovered.
It was fantastic- huge vego meals, delicious french wine and literally to die for,death by chocolate cake to share.... mmmmm. Back to the hostel with cheap French cask wine in hand and in true hostel style, we proceeded to get pissed and laugh together till the sun came up.
The next day we sipped coffee at a verrryyy Parisin little sidewalk cafe, ate tomato and mozarella salad ( my favourite) and went on a bit of a sight see.
The overly confident 'irish' as they were now labelled got us a bit lost, but on the way i was suitably blown away by the Arc de Triumph ( oh god,please excuse that dodgy spelling?!) and the spectacular Eiffel tower( it really is like the pictures, and there it was, RIGHT THERE!!)
We finally made it to the Musee d´Orsay which was quite amazing and then back to the hostel...
I wont bore you by detailing EVERY meal, but this next one will go down in history...
Again, a little gem that Boxy insisted on showing me. We took the Canadian girls too and all I can say is wow...
It was soOOO french. The waitress was divine, we all fell in love with her( so sexy parisian!) and the food was rich and decadant and amazing!!!) as was the wine , AND the dessert. Oh god...
When we finally rolled out on to the pavement , it had begun to rain and it was perfect. Boxy led us up a steep cobble stone alleyway by streetlight until we reached the top of the hill. And wow.. in one direction was the spectacular Sacre Couer church ( who's lights switched off just as we got there--magic!) and on the other side, an incredible birds' eye view of Paris at night, with the lit up Eiffel Tower front and centre. We drank some more cheap wine, drank in the view and shivered with the magic of it all. The next day we visited the same view in daylight and you could barely move it was so crowded, but that night, we had it nearly COMPLETELY to ourselves...a real night to remember!
The next day we met up with the third member of our little parisian possey..Boomer!
It was so good to see him, especially after all of our friends back home had pitched in to get him back over here...the best!
That arvo we relocated to the hotel near the festival . Boxy and I didnt have a ticket for that night to the festival and we were honestly pretty relieved. A yummy japanese dinner( sooo multicultural!) and then after 3 nights of 5am drinking sessions, we were exhausted and hit the sack. ( not before boxy was sure to call Brad and tease him with the fact that he was 'sleeping' with his mrs! boys will be boys ; ) )
The next morning brought perfect blue skies and brilliant sunshine, and we were refreshed and ready to rock!
We banged down Boomers hotel room door and started the drinking, then trekked off to get some french festival on!
And woweee, its a big call, but this was perhaps one of THE BEST festivals Ive ever been to. Maybe it was the fact that it was IN PARIS,maybe it was the special company, maybe it was the rather lovely 'erbal capsules we were given, or maybe it was the tunes, but god it was GOOD!
Queens of the Stone Age were out of this world. Ive never seen the boys ( or me for that matter) rock out or laugh harder...fantastic! Two door cinema club were also great as were 2 many djs( what a show!)
Boxy and I were not meant to have tickets for the Sunday either, but Boomer and his lovely London mates were adamant we were coming anyway. After an elaborate entering, then squeezing off of wristbands, then re- entering after learning our friend´s personal details incase asked, we were in!
I cant remeber alot of the earlier stuff because the ABSOLUTE higlight was the last act. Arcade Fire. It hadn't rained the whole festival, then just as they were finishing up, it started to pour. And i mean bucket down! They stopped playing for a while because of electrical risk but then decided to do one last number anyway! feck it! So , it was pouring, we were soaked to the core, but yelling and laughing and dripping and hugging. I will never forget it.Ridiculous amounts of fun.
Then we were starving.. we ate delecious burrito things, then Boxy insisted on gettting churros( spanish donuts), with his very own jar of nutella ( which i may or may not have eaten straight out of the jar with my finger!)
Then it was over.. I squeezed Boxy goodbye early the next morning, on his way to Canada and Booma and i checked back into the other hostel, closer to town. I believe Boomer's direct quote was, ' Luce, I dont think I´ve ever felt this hungover...arrghhh´
We slept for the day, then met up the following morning to discuss a plan that we'd hatched when drunk on the music....' How bout we both go to Morocco together? '
In the harsh , squinty daylight, it still seemed like a brilliant idea, so we put the wheels in motion.
Then Booma headed off to Spain and I to Portugal! Ah the life of a traveller eh? I think i was made for this....love it!
So for the next very belated edition stay posted! Won´t be long this time...until then... Au revoir mon amis xoxooxo
Now, thank god I take after my dear dad and keep a diary, or else there's no way I´d be able to remember all these incredible experiences. And they are WELL worth remembering. So..here goes...Beginning with Paris...ahhhh
I have my first experience of the atypical ´smooth´french man, when i first arrive in Pareee and am waiting for Boxy. After stopping myself from squealing everytime i remember, I'm actually IN FRANCE, I use my schoolgirl french to clumsily order a cappucino.
The waiter is an old french dude, who is just a regular old dude till he opens his mouth and ... that accent!! And then, he cups my face in his hand and says in stilted english..'Perfect, simply perfect!' SWOOOOON!!
I soon snap out of it however when i see my dear old friend Boxy, who is less inclined to shower me with cliches and more inclined to tell me to ´ fuck off ´ ( in a totally loving, brotherly way!)
That night I´m highly amused ( and secretly impressed) to see just how much Boxy has embraced and flourished in this foreign , foodie culture. He insists on taking me , 2 canadian girls and an irish couple, who he´d befriended earlier, to an amazing Moroccon (?? go figure) restaurant he´d discovered.
It was fantastic- huge vego meals, delicious french wine and literally to die for,death by chocolate cake to share.... mmmmm. Back to the hostel with cheap French cask wine in hand and in true hostel style, we proceeded to get pissed and laugh together till the sun came up.
The next day we sipped coffee at a verrryyy Parisin little sidewalk cafe, ate tomato and mozarella salad ( my favourite) and went on a bit of a sight see.
The overly confident 'irish' as they were now labelled got us a bit lost, but on the way i was suitably blown away by the Arc de Triumph ( oh god,please excuse that dodgy spelling?!) and the spectacular Eiffel tower( it really is like the pictures, and there it was, RIGHT THERE!!)
We finally made it to the Musee d´Orsay which was quite amazing and then back to the hostel...
I wont bore you by detailing EVERY meal, but this next one will go down in history...
Again, a little gem that Boxy insisted on showing me. We took the Canadian girls too and all I can say is wow...
It was soOOO french. The waitress was divine, we all fell in love with her( so sexy parisian!) and the food was rich and decadant and amazing!!!) as was the wine , AND the dessert. Oh god...
When we finally rolled out on to the pavement , it had begun to rain and it was perfect. Boxy led us up a steep cobble stone alleyway by streetlight until we reached the top of the hill. And wow.. in one direction was the spectacular Sacre Couer church ( who's lights switched off just as we got there--magic!) and on the other side, an incredible birds' eye view of Paris at night, with the lit up Eiffel Tower front and centre. We drank some more cheap wine, drank in the view and shivered with the magic of it all. The next day we visited the same view in daylight and you could barely move it was so crowded, but that night, we had it nearly COMPLETELY to ourselves...a real night to remember!
The next day we met up with the third member of our little parisian possey..Boomer!
It was so good to see him, especially after all of our friends back home had pitched in to get him back over here...the best!
That arvo we relocated to the hotel near the festival . Boxy and I didnt have a ticket for that night to the festival and we were honestly pretty relieved. A yummy japanese dinner( sooo multicultural!) and then after 3 nights of 5am drinking sessions, we were exhausted and hit the sack. ( not before boxy was sure to call Brad and tease him with the fact that he was 'sleeping' with his mrs! boys will be boys ; ) )
The next morning brought perfect blue skies and brilliant sunshine, and we were refreshed and ready to rock!
We banged down Boomers hotel room door and started the drinking, then trekked off to get some french festival on!
And woweee, its a big call, but this was perhaps one of THE BEST festivals Ive ever been to. Maybe it was the fact that it was IN PARIS,maybe it was the special company, maybe it was the rather lovely 'erbal capsules we were given, or maybe it was the tunes, but god it was GOOD!
Queens of the Stone Age were out of this world. Ive never seen the boys ( or me for that matter) rock out or laugh harder...fantastic! Two door cinema club were also great as were 2 many djs( what a show!)
Boxy and I were not meant to have tickets for the Sunday either, but Boomer and his lovely London mates were adamant we were coming anyway. After an elaborate entering, then squeezing off of wristbands, then re- entering after learning our friend´s personal details incase asked, we were in!
I cant remeber alot of the earlier stuff because the ABSOLUTE higlight was the last act. Arcade Fire. It hadn't rained the whole festival, then just as they were finishing up, it started to pour. And i mean bucket down! They stopped playing for a while because of electrical risk but then decided to do one last number anyway! feck it! So , it was pouring, we were soaked to the core, but yelling and laughing and dripping and hugging. I will never forget it.Ridiculous amounts of fun.
Then we were starving.. we ate delecious burrito things, then Boxy insisted on gettting churros( spanish donuts), with his very own jar of nutella ( which i may or may not have eaten straight out of the jar with my finger!)
Then it was over.. I squeezed Boxy goodbye early the next morning, on his way to Canada and Booma and i checked back into the other hostel, closer to town. I believe Boomer's direct quote was, ' Luce, I dont think I´ve ever felt this hungover...arrghhh´
We slept for the day, then met up the following morning to discuss a plan that we'd hatched when drunk on the music....' How bout we both go to Morocco together? '
In the harsh , squinty daylight, it still seemed like a brilliant idea, so we put the wheels in motion.
Then Booma headed off to Spain and I to Portugal! Ah the life of a traveller eh? I think i was made for this....love it!
So for the next very belated edition stay posted! Won´t be long this time...until then... Au revoir mon amis xoxooxo
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Spectacular Spain with the Swedish Senoritas!
For as long as I can remember I´ve dreamt of exploring Spain. It´s been calling to me for most of my life. My nana thinks its because some of our ancestors are from the border of France and Spain , and therefore I´m likely to have some Spanish blood. Maybe it was simply the exotic unknown-tapas, sangria,beautiful lilting language and flamenco. Whatever the reason, Spain was a must on my ´travel to-dos´ and I was desperate to discover it for real. And lets just say, if I thought I was smitten with the place before....now I am head over heels in love!
Exactly one year ago, I was sitting in a pub in Broome, soaking up the sun and having a few Sunday drinks. Our group of friends at this stage , was an eclectic mix from Australia, New Zealand and Sweden. I was dreaming of travel (as usual) and was lusting after going to Spain ( as usual!) At this point my Swedish friend, Sara proposed a plan. She suggested that in a years time, her and I meet up and travel to Spain together. Of course it sounded wonderful, but then so do most ideas, when they´re formed through a combination of Sunday sun, sand and wine. So despite loving the concept , I never truly knew if it´d happen or not. But... a year later, we made it happen. Which brings me to.....
After much wrestling with bags, waiting around in airports and language barriers, i arrived at Barcelona airport- it was finally happening!!
About an hour later, Sara arrived, fresh from Sweden and as giggly and incredulous as I was to be there.We managed to negotiate our way to our hotel, and despite being exhausted, made our way to the top floor , where we had a few celebratory wines, whilst overlooking the city night lights of the big B.C!
The next morning, we were up early, as excited as kids on Christmas morning, ready to explore. We managed to start to make sense of the Metro public transport system and before we knew it, we were drinking Spanish wine out of a cask ( only 2 dollars a pop!) and sunbaking on the beach surround by the locals and laughing at our good fortune! Over the next few days, we had alot more picnics, soaked up alot more Spainsh sun and became quite at home on La Rambla - the city centre of Barcelona. I even reduced myself to buying an- i heart Barcelona singlet- what? I do!!!
One night , it started to rain, that delicious steamy, fat rain, that feels so tropical, it´s almost like taking a bath. We sought refuge in an amazing little treasure trove of a place and found ourselves surrounded by passionate locals drinking giant jugs of Sangria. so..when in spain! We too, drank our share of the delecious concoction and then sampled some of the amazing food too ( already my photos look like the collection of a food critic , i´m just loving the presentation, and the taste and the exotic nature of the cuisine here- yummo!)
The next night we stumbled across a mini street festival , which we enjoyed while sampling some more Spanish cask wine and the local hummus and bread, fresh from the corner shop.
Then more sun, more stumbly spainsh talk and before we knew it we had been there for a week- oops!
Sara´s friends were arriving the next day, so we figured we may as well stay too.
We met them at a giant hostel in the heart of the city and before we knew it, we´d gotten so excited we had changed our plans for the coming week completley. Instead of going south to Valencia and Andalucia( good name!) we decided it was way to much fun in our little possey, so decided to travel north with them instead. The beauty of travel! 5 Swedes and an Aussie, on our way!
As luck would have it, one of the girls, is actually a tour guide, and 3 of the girls speak fluent spanish,so they are the perfect travel companions. That night we discoverd a Champanerie- an amazingly crowded hot, local bar. You can barely move,drinks are constantly being spilled, giant slabs of meat hang from the roof, next to rows and rows of Cava ( Spanish champagne) and you have to sample little plates of cheese if you want a drink. It´s wonderful and feels so very spanish! We theN explored 3 more local bars, each as exciting and exotic as the last, before falling into bed in the wee hours, while the city partied on. The next day-more beach bliss, then to a new part of town, where we found another fantastic local haunt, with plenty more sangria , tomato bread ( one of my favourites, thick crusty bread smeared with fresh tomato, good european oil and lashings of garlic ), homemade babbaganoush, tomato and mozarella salad, and all round deliciousness. Then we managed to find ourselves amonst a street festival, which revolved around , looking after the environment. So every 200 metres there was a new fairytale cave to explore , filled with decorations made from recycled bottles and plastic and serving traditional Spanish spirits and live music. The next day we travelled by train to Girona, to another bustling , bright hostel, where we had pre dinks of Cava in our room , then ventured out for tapas at 11:30 pm.
In the morning, we were off again to Figueres, to see the Dali exhibition, which was typically awe inspiring and spectacular. I found it really strange, that we were allowed to take photos of the exhibition, but we were, so we did ( keep posted on Facebook, for heaps of photos, I´m, having trouble uploading them on these exotic Spanish computers!)
Then more train-ing and wrestling with my damn bag ( it has to be noted that at this stage, I´d gottten rid of my big backpackers pack, and replaced it for one with wheels, so much easier, or so I thought... Now though, it´s fallen apart and lost all its wheels, so I´m about to buy my third pack for the trip- good quality luggage!)
We finally arrived at Llanca, our favourite place yet, and stayed in this fantastic little, whitewashed hotel, with a view of the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. It had a giant green, sprawling front yard with a hammock and a big trestle table and it felt like home. Instantly we decided to settle here for 3 nights.
After exploring the beach, we wandered along the seaside markets before finaly sampling some local seafood paella, which was truly mouth watering.
The next day we trekked to discover a less popular beach, surrounded by cliffs and covered in smooth pebbles, where the water was totally clear. Yum. That night we utilised our sprawling front yard and got all dressed up and cooked ourselves a dinner party, complete with plenty of Cava,home made tomato bread, seafood pasta and fresh goats cheese salad. Mmmmm.
In the morning we woke to a long, hot bus ride to Caraques. Here ,it felt so Mediterreanean, the crystal clear water was surrounded with mountains dotted with little white houses with blue roofs, and we soaked up the sun, ate fresh gelato and discoved hidden cobblestone alleyways with friendly locals.
Then we said goodbye to one of our crew and headed back to Barcelona, which was a stopover for our next destination. Loving the city as we do , we couldn´t resist making the most of it. We then proceeded to sample the finery of a recommended tapas bar- local red wine, more goats cheese, more Champaneria and then to anothe bar for freshly made strawberry daquiris and music. Home to the dodgy hostel( someone else was in one of our beds!), 2 and a half hours sleep and then back at the train station at 6 30 am for a big train ride to San Sebastian.
´
We are still here now and its yet another seaside paradise. I love it. Last night we sampled some local tapas. It´s different here, more elaborate- capsicum stuffed with tuna and homemade fritattas and asparagus on crusty bread. Then we found ourselves amongst yet another street party, big brass bands and fantastic local jazz bands. We found ourselves a spot on the beach for the most rousing fireworks show ever, all perfectly choreographed to a blaring musical soundtrack- fun!
Exhausted after virtually no sleep, we made it back to the hostel and passed out to the sounds of the spanish partying into the night.
This morning , the streets are very quiet, it´s a Sunday the siesta is seemingly lasting for the whole day. I think there´d be many a sangria headache amongst the locals and tourists alike.
On Wednesday I say goodbye to my little crew of Swedish senoritas and head to Paris for a music festival with Boxy and Booma ( my own personal bodyguards!)
It´s a hard life!
Think it´s fair to say, that my high expectations of this exotic and tantalising place have been well and truly exceeded. I won´t be able to keep away for long.
Until next time my friends, adios chica guapas and chico guapas. Muchos Gracious! ( goodbye hot girls and boys, thankyou very much!) ( dunno about the spelling, but I´ve got me accent down pat!) HOLA! xxoxox
Exactly one year ago, I was sitting in a pub in Broome, soaking up the sun and having a few Sunday drinks. Our group of friends at this stage , was an eclectic mix from Australia, New Zealand and Sweden. I was dreaming of travel (as usual) and was lusting after going to Spain ( as usual!) At this point my Swedish friend, Sara proposed a plan. She suggested that in a years time, her and I meet up and travel to Spain together. Of course it sounded wonderful, but then so do most ideas, when they´re formed through a combination of Sunday sun, sand and wine. So despite loving the concept , I never truly knew if it´d happen or not. But... a year later, we made it happen. Which brings me to.....
After much wrestling with bags, waiting around in airports and language barriers, i arrived at Barcelona airport- it was finally happening!!
About an hour later, Sara arrived, fresh from Sweden and as giggly and incredulous as I was to be there.We managed to negotiate our way to our hotel, and despite being exhausted, made our way to the top floor , where we had a few celebratory wines, whilst overlooking the city night lights of the big B.C!
The next morning, we were up early, as excited as kids on Christmas morning, ready to explore. We managed to start to make sense of the Metro public transport system and before we knew it, we were drinking Spanish wine out of a cask ( only 2 dollars a pop!) and sunbaking on the beach surround by the locals and laughing at our good fortune! Over the next few days, we had alot more picnics, soaked up alot more Spainsh sun and became quite at home on La Rambla - the city centre of Barcelona. I even reduced myself to buying an- i heart Barcelona singlet- what? I do!!!
One night , it started to rain, that delicious steamy, fat rain, that feels so tropical, it´s almost like taking a bath. We sought refuge in an amazing little treasure trove of a place and found ourselves surrounded by passionate locals drinking giant jugs of Sangria. so..when in spain! We too, drank our share of the delecious concoction and then sampled some of the amazing food too ( already my photos look like the collection of a food critic , i´m just loving the presentation, and the taste and the exotic nature of the cuisine here- yummo!)
The next night we stumbled across a mini street festival , which we enjoyed while sampling some more Spanish cask wine and the local hummus and bread, fresh from the corner shop.
Then more sun, more stumbly spainsh talk and before we knew it we had been there for a week- oops!
Sara´s friends were arriving the next day, so we figured we may as well stay too.
We met them at a giant hostel in the heart of the city and before we knew it, we´d gotten so excited we had changed our plans for the coming week completley. Instead of going south to Valencia and Andalucia( good name!) we decided it was way to much fun in our little possey, so decided to travel north with them instead. The beauty of travel! 5 Swedes and an Aussie, on our way!
As luck would have it, one of the girls, is actually a tour guide, and 3 of the girls speak fluent spanish,so they are the perfect travel companions. That night we discoverd a Champanerie- an amazingly crowded hot, local bar. You can barely move,drinks are constantly being spilled, giant slabs of meat hang from the roof, next to rows and rows of Cava ( Spanish champagne) and you have to sample little plates of cheese if you want a drink. It´s wonderful and feels so very spanish! We theN explored 3 more local bars, each as exciting and exotic as the last, before falling into bed in the wee hours, while the city partied on. The next day-more beach bliss, then to a new part of town, where we found another fantastic local haunt, with plenty more sangria , tomato bread ( one of my favourites, thick crusty bread smeared with fresh tomato, good european oil and lashings of garlic ), homemade babbaganoush, tomato and mozarella salad, and all round deliciousness. Then we managed to find ourselves amonst a street festival, which revolved around , looking after the environment. So every 200 metres there was a new fairytale cave to explore , filled with decorations made from recycled bottles and plastic and serving traditional Spanish spirits and live music. The next day we travelled by train to Girona, to another bustling , bright hostel, where we had pre dinks of Cava in our room , then ventured out for tapas at 11:30 pm.
In the morning, we were off again to Figueres, to see the Dali exhibition, which was typically awe inspiring and spectacular. I found it really strange, that we were allowed to take photos of the exhibition, but we were, so we did ( keep posted on Facebook, for heaps of photos, I´m, having trouble uploading them on these exotic Spanish computers!)
Then more train-ing and wrestling with my damn bag ( it has to be noted that at this stage, I´d gottten rid of my big backpackers pack, and replaced it for one with wheels, so much easier, or so I thought... Now though, it´s fallen apart and lost all its wheels, so I´m about to buy my third pack for the trip- good quality luggage!)
We finally arrived at Llanca, our favourite place yet, and stayed in this fantastic little, whitewashed hotel, with a view of the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. It had a giant green, sprawling front yard with a hammock and a big trestle table and it felt like home. Instantly we decided to settle here for 3 nights.
After exploring the beach, we wandered along the seaside markets before finaly sampling some local seafood paella, which was truly mouth watering.
The next day we trekked to discover a less popular beach, surrounded by cliffs and covered in smooth pebbles, where the water was totally clear. Yum. That night we utilised our sprawling front yard and got all dressed up and cooked ourselves a dinner party, complete with plenty of Cava,home made tomato bread, seafood pasta and fresh goats cheese salad. Mmmmm.
In the morning we woke to a long, hot bus ride to Caraques. Here ,it felt so Mediterreanean, the crystal clear water was surrounded with mountains dotted with little white houses with blue roofs, and we soaked up the sun, ate fresh gelato and discoved hidden cobblestone alleyways with friendly locals.
Then we said goodbye to one of our crew and headed back to Barcelona, which was a stopover for our next destination. Loving the city as we do , we couldn´t resist making the most of it. We then proceeded to sample the finery of a recommended tapas bar- local red wine, more goats cheese, more Champaneria and then to anothe bar for freshly made strawberry daquiris and music. Home to the dodgy hostel( someone else was in one of our beds!), 2 and a half hours sleep and then back at the train station at 6 30 am for a big train ride to San Sebastian.
´
We are still here now and its yet another seaside paradise. I love it. Last night we sampled some local tapas. It´s different here, more elaborate- capsicum stuffed with tuna and homemade fritattas and asparagus on crusty bread. Then we found ourselves amongst yet another street party, big brass bands and fantastic local jazz bands. We found ourselves a spot on the beach for the most rousing fireworks show ever, all perfectly choreographed to a blaring musical soundtrack- fun!
Exhausted after virtually no sleep, we made it back to the hostel and passed out to the sounds of the spanish partying into the night.
This morning , the streets are very quiet, it´s a Sunday the siesta is seemingly lasting for the whole day. I think there´d be many a sangria headache amongst the locals and tourists alike.
On Wednesday I say goodbye to my little crew of Swedish senoritas and head to Paris for a music festival with Boxy and Booma ( my own personal bodyguards!)
It´s a hard life!
Think it´s fair to say, that my high expectations of this exotic and tantalising place have been well and truly exceeded. I won´t be able to keep away for long.
Until next time my friends, adios chica guapas and chico guapas. Muchos Gracious! ( goodbye hot girls and boys, thankyou very much!) ( dunno about the spelling, but I´ve got me accent down pat!) HOLA! xxoxox
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Blimey! orright cobber? : )
London eh? To be honest, when first planning my intrepid travels, I never had a burning desire to go to London. Not like Spain ( tapas, exotica, sangria- swoon!), or France ( Pareeeeeee, croissants and fabulous romantic cliches!)
But I have to say, I have been VERY pleasantly surprised. Cor! Strike me down with a bobby's baton!
I was determined to not go to any ' Aussie bar' ( a goal of mine throughout all of my travels.) And, I refuse to join in with any one who, when they ask where I'm from, respond with- " AUSSIE, AUSSIE AUSSIE! ..."
I was also well prepared for all the other London stereotypes- dreary grey skies, dodgy alleyways and even dodgier teeth. Sure all of these things exist to an extent, but overwhelmingly I've found this to be a very diverse, exciting and cultured city...
I first arrived at Stansted airport and after managing to find my way into the city , I caught me my first 'tube!' (note local lingo- SUCH a pretend pommy!)
And as I was forging my way at 6am through the backstreets, map in hand, trying in vain to find my hostel, I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window.
The girl staring back at me was a backpacker. A proper traveller, laden down with heavy pack, serious walking shoes and overall flushed and slightly dishevelled. And that's when i began to feel really liberated. I was actually doing this. Adventuring out on my own!! wooooooooooop!
I eventually found my hostel, a lovely little place above an old, stone pub. I picked this place about two hours before I flew out, superficially, I'm ashamed to say, because of its' name. Travel-joy hostel. Alright, yes, I know- typically superstitious and camp- and therefore for me- perfect!
And it has been. I've been bunking down in a squashed room with 9 other beds, with girls from Sweden, Brazil, Hong Kong, Canada- you name it. The other morning , a mother and daughter from Hong Kong- gave me the most perfect nectarine as a goodbye present- simply- because I was nice to them when they arrived. Awww...
The only downside has been , when last night, I had to change rooms- because someone else had pre- booked my bed. I found myself, mistakenly, in a ' mixed sex' dorm. And it just so happened, I was the only girl. I slept with my trusty swiss army knife under my pillow, but otherwise, unharmed!
So anyway, every morning, I wake up , go for a walk along the Thames, come back for free cornflakes at the bar ( strange, but it works) and then catch a red , double decker, iconic bus to the heart of London.
One of my favourite past-times here, has been to sit in Trafalgar Square, watch the fountain and write! ( yep- my film script is well on it's way- all this new air seems to have inspired me!)
I've visited the National Gallery multiple times, seen Van Gogh's famous sunflowers and Monet's lillies.
I loved the Portrait gallery too- intense , almost photograph paintings of people from all walks of life. Today I went to Buckingham palace ( i know-despite being anti the queen and classing myself as a republican), I just felt like it was one of those done things. When in London...
I have long been lusting after the famous cuisine of Spain and France, but honestly dodn't expect much from England.
But it's been delicious! I've tried to discover the less touristy hotspots- I've eaten amazingly freshly baked italian bread, served with fresh goats cheese, and proper, rich italian oil, I've eaten tradition French herb bread and dips ( sensing a trend?!) and fluffy blueberry laden muffins.
The coffee is great as are the wine lists,and all of the waiters are lovely.
At one of the little Italian places I went to I was served by this giant Nigerian man, with a smile that could sell Colgate. I walked past his restaurant days later and he made a point of pointing at me , across the street, grinning and waving!
However, above all, my highlight here has been... the shows. Wow.
I've discovered a giant discount ticket booth in the middle of Leicester Square and I have been in heaven!
I saw 'Tapdogs- the stage show.' Adam Garcia ladies- need I say more? Although I will say, that some of the older ladies in the audience were whistling so hard, I was worried they may just yell out and offer to ' tap his dawwwg!'
Last night...I indulged completely and saw my favourite musical of all time...
Let me preface this by revealing an embarassing truth.. I distinctly remember ( as some of you may too) being in about year 7 and the teacher asking us all to name our favourite music.
Most classmembers attempted to outdo each other in the cool stakes- Nirvana, Blink 182, ColdPlay. Me? No Question.... Les Mis! What a dork...
Now though, I've embraced my dorkiness and took myself for a solo date to soak up this magic musical once more.
Amazingly, I still remembered every lyric. I still have a giant girl crush on Eponine and I still sobbed a little at the end... Blisss!!!
Last night ,me myself and I , went to see' Wicked' - which I was excited about , having always also, been a longtime lover of the Wizard of Oz. Who isn't? It was fantastic fun- particularly because of the joy on the face of the girl I was sitting next to . She was lovely. From Kentucky, wearing an ' I love London' t shirt, offering me her lollies- and only 6 years old! When we parted ways- she gave me a giant hug and waved at me all the way out of theatre. I love meeting all these different, eclectic fellow travellers!
And tonight my dearests....I head to sexy, swoony, sensational Spain! Barcelona to be precise, to meet my sexy Swedish friend- Sara.
Don't envy me.. I'll take you with me... just keep reading these lil' guys.
Until then- safe travels xxoxoxoox
But I have to say, I have been VERY pleasantly surprised. Cor! Strike me down with a bobby's baton!
I was determined to not go to any ' Aussie bar' ( a goal of mine throughout all of my travels.) And, I refuse to join in with any one who, when they ask where I'm from, respond with- " AUSSIE, AUSSIE AUSSIE! ..."
I was also well prepared for all the other London stereotypes- dreary grey skies, dodgy alleyways and even dodgier teeth. Sure all of these things exist to an extent, but overwhelmingly I've found this to be a very diverse, exciting and cultured city...
I first arrived at Stansted airport and after managing to find my way into the city , I caught me my first 'tube!' (note local lingo- SUCH a pretend pommy!)
And as I was forging my way at 6am through the backstreets, map in hand, trying in vain to find my hostel, I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window.
The girl staring back at me was a backpacker. A proper traveller, laden down with heavy pack, serious walking shoes and overall flushed and slightly dishevelled. And that's when i began to feel really liberated. I was actually doing this. Adventuring out on my own!! wooooooooooop!
I eventually found my hostel, a lovely little place above an old, stone pub. I picked this place about two hours before I flew out, superficially, I'm ashamed to say, because of its' name. Travel-joy hostel. Alright, yes, I know- typically superstitious and camp- and therefore for me- perfect!
And it has been. I've been bunking down in a squashed room with 9 other beds, with girls from Sweden, Brazil, Hong Kong, Canada- you name it. The other morning , a mother and daughter from Hong Kong- gave me the most perfect nectarine as a goodbye present- simply- because I was nice to them when they arrived. Awww...
The only downside has been , when last night, I had to change rooms- because someone else had pre- booked my bed. I found myself, mistakenly, in a ' mixed sex' dorm. And it just so happened, I was the only girl. I slept with my trusty swiss army knife under my pillow, but otherwise, unharmed!
So anyway, every morning, I wake up , go for a walk along the Thames, come back for free cornflakes at the bar ( strange, but it works) and then catch a red , double decker, iconic bus to the heart of London.
One of my favourite past-times here, has been to sit in Trafalgar Square, watch the fountain and write! ( yep- my film script is well on it's way- all this new air seems to have inspired me!)
I've visited the National Gallery multiple times, seen Van Gogh's famous sunflowers and Monet's lillies.
I loved the Portrait gallery too- intense , almost photograph paintings of people from all walks of life. Today I went to Buckingham palace ( i know-despite being anti the queen and classing myself as a republican), I just felt like it was one of those done things. When in London...
I have long been lusting after the famous cuisine of Spain and France, but honestly dodn't expect much from England.
But it's been delicious! I've tried to discover the less touristy hotspots- I've eaten amazingly freshly baked italian bread, served with fresh goats cheese, and proper, rich italian oil, I've eaten tradition French herb bread and dips ( sensing a trend?!) and fluffy blueberry laden muffins.
The coffee is great as are the wine lists,and all of the waiters are lovely.
At one of the little Italian places I went to I was served by this giant Nigerian man, with a smile that could sell Colgate. I walked past his restaurant days later and he made a point of pointing at me , across the street, grinning and waving!
However, above all, my highlight here has been... the shows. Wow.
I've discovered a giant discount ticket booth in the middle of Leicester Square and I have been in heaven!
I saw 'Tapdogs- the stage show.' Adam Garcia ladies- need I say more? Although I will say, that some of the older ladies in the audience were whistling so hard, I was worried they may just yell out and offer to ' tap his dawwwg!'
Last night...I indulged completely and saw my favourite musical of all time...
Let me preface this by revealing an embarassing truth.. I distinctly remember ( as some of you may too) being in about year 7 and the teacher asking us all to name our favourite music.
Most classmembers attempted to outdo each other in the cool stakes- Nirvana, Blink 182, ColdPlay. Me? No Question.... Les Mis! What a dork...
Now though, I've embraced my dorkiness and took myself for a solo date to soak up this magic musical once more.
Amazingly, I still remembered every lyric. I still have a giant girl crush on Eponine and I still sobbed a little at the end... Blisss!!!
Last night ,me myself and I , went to see' Wicked' - which I was excited about , having always also, been a longtime lover of the Wizard of Oz. Who isn't? It was fantastic fun- particularly because of the joy on the face of the girl I was sitting next to . She was lovely. From Kentucky, wearing an ' I love London' t shirt, offering me her lollies- and only 6 years old! When we parted ways- she gave me a giant hug and waved at me all the way out of theatre. I love meeting all these different, eclectic fellow travellers!
And tonight my dearests....I head to sexy, swoony, sensational Spain! Barcelona to be precise, to meet my sexy Swedish friend- Sara.
Don't envy me.. I'll take you with me... just keep reading these lil' guys.
Until then- safe travels xxoxoxoox
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