Home

I am pooped!

I arrived home from London on the evening of the 20th. And it took a good solid 4 days of sleep to get anywhere near back to functioning form. Essentially all the lost sleep from the 6 months of travel demanded to get some quality time and my body, being the thoughtful person it is, caved and set me comatose. Guess I needed it!

I had a chance to catch up with family on the 26th during my Gran's 90th birthday, which was a wonderful way to ease back into civilization. (What? You mean I have to brush my hair and wear clean clothes?)

But now I'm a bit unsure what to do next. I have a burning urge to do something and to do it now, now, now. I just don't know what. The logical side of me says (in that know-it-all voice): "Relax, you probably just need time to run through your experiences over the last 6 months and digest the new knowledge and skills you possess. It's a time to reflect and enjoy your newfound sense of adventure." The other side, you know... "that" side, says: "Waaaa! I don't have any money! I'm going to die alone in a cardboard box smelling of cat pee!" And the debate wages on.

In the meantime I think I'll just kick back with another cup of hot chocolate, glare at the snow (grrr...), and see if I can figure out what I want to be next.

(NOTE: This will be the last entry for this journal... unless I go travelling again... which will probably happen... because I've got the travel bug bad... Southeast Asia anyone?)

The Best Surprise Ever

Marrakesh left a few lingering memories of massive shopping days, great bartering sessions, the occational creepy shop keeper, a super agressive cab driver (he tried to grab our bags away and shove them in the trunk of the cab when we refused to pay him too much), and an outrageously pink cafe. Not necessarily in that order.

However the time came and a few of us bundled ourselves (and assorted paraphenalia) to the airport and headed off to our respective destinations. I flew to Luton. Still not exactly sure where that is... somewhere way the heck outside London I think.

But it was here that I got the best surprise ever. EVER! For when I wrestled myself free from customs and had claimed my pack from the baggage claim like a triumphant althlete, marched out the (only) gate and stepped into the vacant waiting room I was feeling pretty beat. But optimistic because I was being met by my friend Alison who's currently schooling in London. Only Alison wasn't there. In fact, as far as I could tell, no one except for a few old ladies was in the waiting room at all! That was until this one woman wearing a black hat who I assumed was sleeping tilted her head to the side so I could see her face. But it wasn't Alison... it was my friend Anna who had flown all the way from Vancouver to meet me! (Well... London itself is a pretty big draw too, but I'm allowed to have my self indulgent moments.) As I said, this was the best surprise I've had... EVER!

Needless to say Anna and Alison have kept me pretty busy in jolly old London. Thus the lack of updates on the blog front. (Sorry for disappearing Dad!) Have been having a blast running around all my favorite things. Except of course that this time I have someone to be silly and retarded with and that makes it all the more fun.

Tomorrow I fly back to Vancouver. And frankly, it hasn't really donned on me that my trip is ending. I have no idea what to make of it, how to think of it, or how the heck I'm supposed to react to it. But that's probably just how things go. I fully expect it to take a good couple weeks for everything to sink in. Hell, at this point I can't even distinguish which memories happened in which cities!

I'd also like to take this opportunity to appologies to friends and family in advance. I'm scruffy, a bit short, kind of rude, and maybe a teensy weensy bit self centered at the moment. But once I realize that you're not all Eastern European border guards things will be just like old times. Well... except for the scruffiness. That'll take a good couple weeks to sort out. :P

I miss you all! See you soon!

Mad Mad Marrakesh

So after spending the morning puttering around sleepy Essaouira we boarded a bus to Marrakesh. The ride was uneventful, but dumped us in the middle of who knows where Marrakesh. It was dark and John had it work cut out for him arranging petit taxis for us all. They don't drive with the meters on in this city so you have to barter for the price before hand.

But we all managed to arrive at our hotel in one piece, luggage intact. After a brief freshen-up we headed out into the Djemma el Fna, the biggest square in Marrakesh. During the day the square is fairly ordinary with the usual gang of peddlers and shop owners shouting for your dirhams. But at night the madness ensues. Berber storytellers set up with huge crowds set in a ring around them. Snake charmers do their best to con money out of phobic tourists by flinging snakes on people and then asking money to remove it. Roving hordes of horny young men move in waves around foriegn women to cop a quick feel. (This is NOT a pleasant thing!) And the food stalls constantly shout and jump in your way as a means to lure you to their counters. It's pretty overwhelming. But it's not all that bad. Once we let John know what was happening (and he had warned us it might happen) he managed to keep the pervy teens at bay. And again, once we chose a food stall, the rest backed off and let us enjoy the meal.

Marrakesh is not exactly as I pictured it. It lies somewhere between Casablanca and Fes in terms of feel and atmosphere. The shop keepers are definitely and positively more aggressive than anywhere else, but there are a few jems. And when we did our shopping today we kept coming back to those few nice ones.

It's hard to believe that tomorrow I'll be heading out of Morocco on a flight to London. It doesn't quite feel like the whirlwind tour of Europe is ending. Still, it'll be great to see Alison from home and to reconnect with the Croatia crew and a few others I've met while travelling. London for me is really a big travel reunion place. So in a way it'll be a great way to end my travels.

But I do still keep thinking I'm headed off to another city, country, continent instead of beginning the path back home. I don't really know what it's like to have a home anymore!

Hammam-a Mama

My god! My skin has not been this clean in months!
The Hammam was absolutely and undoubitably mind blowingly wonderful. All of us took turns in pairs, and all of us stumbled out of the steam soaked basement with zombified blissfulness.

Here's a basic breakdown of what happened:
After paying you decend down a narrow corridor to the Hammam located in the basement of an old Medina building. The first room is very narrow and consists only of a reception type desk. She shows you to room number two where you strip down to your birthday suit and shove all your belongings into a locker. Beats the hell out of me where you're supposed to stick the key though! After some sniggering on behalf of the Hammam ladies at our bashfullness (Linda opted to leave her knickers on) we were shown into room number three. This one is basically an all purpose washing area for regulars and those who aren't getting the full treatment. We sat there dumbfounded as what to do next for about five minutes sweating like mad. It was incredibly dark down there, which I took to be a good thing as it stopped me from freaking out about other people's sweat etc. Shortly a completely buck woman came in and took us into room number four and asked us to lay down on two mats while she slooshed warm water all over us. Then another Hammam lady joined us and the scrubbing commenced. My GOD! They certainly give you a going over... ALL over! I think she scrubbed off eight layers of skin and about half my tan in the process. But the upside is my skin is super silky soft. After much more slooshing of water, they plastered us with some sort of black muddy paste and left us to "dry" for about 15 minutes. Then they asked us to stand up and slooshed us with some more water. This is when they took their opportunity to relieve Linda of her bottoms and yanked them down to her ankles. Cheeky and sneaky! Then it was on to the massage. I tried my best not to think about that fact that I had a huge naked Moroccan woman inches from my back and concentrated instead on the fact that she was doing her best to force all the air out of my lungs. Still, it was wonderfully relaxing and I enjoyed every minute of it. At the end the large lady who was doing my scrubbing wrapped and towl about my head, patted me on the cheeks and called me her baby. At least that's what I understood from the mangled french-arabic she spoke. So I'll always think of her as my Hammam Mama.

Linda and I left feeling better than we had in days (in my case, months!). We topped off the night with whole wheat crepes (something other than tajines, hallelujha!) and ice cream with the other girls. Ahh bliss.

Tonight we head to the last city on the tour. Marrakesh. Can we say shopping paradise? Yes we can!

Hard Core (ish)

The drive to Ait Benhaidu was long, but thankfully fairly dry. Unfortunately our dearly beloved van "got sick" as the Moroccan mechanic said and was taken away for repairs. The kasbah at Ait Benhaidu was fabulous and it was neat to wander the streets and figure out which scenes from which movie were filmed where and with whom in them. However the best part had to be the absolute manic river crossing by donkey. Picture two tall Canadian women straddling the smallest teeny tiny donkey ever. Then have that donkey plod through a raging river up to it's belly. Then picture the aforementioned two Canadian women with death grips on the Moroccan guy leading the donkey. Then repeat this five more times and you have something like our crossing to Ait Benhaidu. I think John nearly bust something he was laughing so hard.

The next morning we were greeted with not one but two replacement vehicles. Two well worn land rovers with missing pieces in the doors were to be our new transportation. I kept singing "going on a lion hunt" much to the dismay of my fellow tourees! The rovers took us up into the High Atlas mountains (which look strikingly similar to the Rockies, only pink) to the village of Imlil. Apparently Imlil is a kind of basecamp for expeditions up Morocco's highest mountain as all the locals tried to sell us crampons and ice picks. Made us all feel quite hard core! From there we trekked up to a Berber (original natives of Morocco) village and stayed in a local Gite (a mud brick house with every section of the house as seperate building). And holy Berber bumpkins was it cold! The next morning we hiked up into the mountains for a couple hours along the same trail that the real mountaineers take. Again, made us feel like super tough intrepid explorers... even if they did out pace us like horses to slugs. The views of the snowcapped mountains were breathtaking. Could hardly believe that I was still in Morocco!

From there our old van showed up again in a much healthier condition to take us to Essaouira on the coast. (Pity, I rather enjoyed them. They had more leg room.) It's so weird to think that yesterday we were in the mountains and today we're dipping our toes into sand and chasing the seagulls away. One thing's for sure, Morocco is definitely a country of diversity. No two places that I've visited have been the same.

Essaouira is a lovely collection of white washed buildings and wide french designed streets. Actually reminds me a lot of the Greek islands. It has a very laid back feel like most beach side towns which is always a hit with me. In a couple hours, Linda and I are due for our Hammam experience. A room full of women, completely buck naked, covered in various soaps, mud baths, and assorted scrubbing materials... what could possibly be awkward about that? :) Ah well, it'll be good to have a giggle at our mud monster bodies.

Les Chameaux

A million things have happened in the last couple days, so I'll do my best to fill you all in.

After Fes we headed up into the Middle Atlas. Beautiful country of stark red brown mountains carved into table tops by water and endless plateau vistas. Our hotel was in the middle of a vast swath of ground that ended right at the mountains. To stretch our legs we hiked it to a nearby gorge and then on to a nearby mud brick kasbah village. The people here were wonderfully friendly, even if I didn't have a clue what they were saying. And the children were amazing! They all lined up to have their pictures taken and then wanted to see what they looked like on the digital cameras. Much shrieking and laughter ensued upon their examinations of our photos. As the sun set, three of the little girls took the hands of Linda (fellow touree) and myself and walked with us all the way out of the village. This is probably my best memory of the trip thus far.

Beyond the Middle Atlas we decended down through steep valleys which broke away to reveal... the Sahara! This was the night I'd been waiting for. The camel ride through the desert. And I wasn't disappointed. It is unbelievably quiet and soothing. Rolling dunes of gold stretching beyond your sight, the sparse tufty grass struggling to grow. Mind blowing! But my GOD the camel ride was uncomfortable. You'd think that in 1000 years they'd come up with a better saddle! My ass bones still hurt. Probably did not help that we all decided to scramble up a massive sand dune to watch the remainder of the light spatter across the dunes. Great experience though.

The weather wasn't exactly as we'd hoped and on the way out to our camp it began to rain. This was to be the theme for the next couple days. I've talked about rain before. How the rain was thick enough to swim through, how it was trying to kill me, how it was rain with intent to murder. But NOTHING compares to the rain in Morocco. You see it's rained so much here that the majority of the roads we need to traverse are now masquerading as rivers. (Though this is as much due to the Moroccoans complete inablity to grasp the concept of bridges as anything else.) We got holed up in some small town for a whole day because the road we needed to cross was submerged. It also meant that we didn't get to see one of the more spetactular natural wonders in Morocco. The Todra Gorge. Well... I should clarify. We saw it... from the other side of the broken path up the gorge! Still, the attempt was made and I'm glad for it.

Unfortunately all this rain has also meant colder temperatures. And when your only pair of pants is soaking wet you get cold pretty fast. Needless to say, me and my fellow tour gals are a shivering mess of clammy coldness. And worse, I haven't seen a hot shower in days!

Today we're headed to the kasbah in Ait Benhaidu (or something like that) where "Gladiator", "Kundun", and a whole whack of other movies were filmed. Now if only I can get a big sword to swing around for some choice photos!

Madness in Fes

I am completely and utterly blow away by the markets in Fes. They are above and beyond anything I've ever seen on this trip. It's an assult on the senses, all of them. But not in a bad way. You'll have donkeys plodding down the narrow streets because cars can't fit. You'll have women in beautiful Jalabas (like a really long kaftan with a pointed hood), women in full covered hajibs, and women wandering around in jeans and tshirts. And food! Food everwhere! Men sharpening knives. Brass pots being hammered into shapes. Multicoloured jewel lanterns swinging in the breeze. It smells good. It reeks to the high heavens. It's unbelievably colourful. It's the colour of dried mud. It's completely amazing and it's taken my breath away.

Today we're headed into the Atlas mountains for some hiking and after that it's into the desert for some (hopefully!) gorgeous sunsets and some camel ridin'. Probably won't be able to update the blog much for about a week. But I'll give a full update when I get a chance.

The Harem

The last couple days have flown by and the pace is likely to stay the same. It's weird to think that yesterday morning I was in Casablanca. Since then I've been to two different cities and one Roman ruins out in the country side. Craziness!

The first city was Rabat, capital city of Morocco and residence of the King. Needless to say this place is pretty swank compared to Casa. Huge boulevards lined with palms and fountains. And it's clean! Well... relatively. We only had 4 hours there but managed to squeeze in a run of the Medina, a quick look around the local Kasbah (fortified village), a romp around a spectacular unfinished mosque, a mausoleum to some past king, and the Roman ruins of Chellah. Needless to say by the time we wrangled ourselves though a crazy train to the city of Meknes we were dead tired.

This morning I awoke to the sound of a 5am prayer call going out. Which was beautiful until I decided I'd had enough and popped in some earplugs. Around 9 a bunch of us headed off on a tour of the ruins of some fabulous graineries and stables. Neat stuff. But the highlight of the day has to be buying fruit in the Old Mellah (Jewish quarter) and getting lost in the Medina markets. Even got to try Camel meat! It's kind of like a cross between beef and lamb. First you go to one guy and get him to mix you up a patty of lean camel meat, a bit of the fatty hump to help it cook, some onions and seasoning. Then you take your patties to the grill guy down the next alley, who cooks it up on open coals and shoves it in a bit of bread. Loved it! Actually really enjoyed Meknes. It seems more authentic. Especially when you're standing in unidentified sludge while buying your bananas!

Now we're all in Fes. You know... where the hats come from. Soon we'll head out to a fancy dinner in a converted traditional riad (home with a central coutyard and fountain). I should also explain the title of this post a bit. You see there are 10 women on this trip... and one male tour leader. Thus, the Harem. It's ok John, you'll get over the shock some day.

Culture Shockage

So I arrived in Morocco on Halloween morning having freshly stepped off the ferry from Tarifa. No sooner had I stepped out of the terminal doors I was faced with about 5 men wearing funny hats and dresses to the ankles. It took my rattled brain a second to kick in and convey to my mind that this was in fact the local style of dress and not a convention of drag queens.

The train trip to Casablanca was relatively unevenful and rather pleasant. (A Moroccan guy cept forcing me to eat fresh baked cookies!) And a local family that I'd met on the train insisted on driving me to my hotel. (Though the driver did try to sell me a computer on the way.) My GOD Casablanca is a madhouse! The local family was very concerned that I was only staying on day. They thought that was too long! The traffic in this city is along the lines of Bankok and Delhi, sheer madness! Cars driving everywhere, four abrest in any given direction, hand drawn carts carrying eggs and crazy motorized cyclists weaving in between the cracks. At one point the driver turned around, pointed to the traffic and said "Ever been to China?".

But the mqdness didn't end there. When I arrived at the hotel they had no record that I'd paid for that night, so they weren't going to give me the room. After some talk he agreed to give me the room on the condition that the tour guide would be able to prove it the next day (today, which he did). This gave me enough time to leap out into the crazy masses of Casablanca's streets ("thronging hordes" is a phrase which comes to mind) and find an internet cafe where I could print off proof that I'd paid. This seemed to smooth things over. Pretty much just collapsed in bed after that.

Met up with some of my fellow tour groupies today and took a tour of the Hassan II Mosque, third largest in the world and probably Casa's only tourist sight. Lovely place. Absolutely MASSIVE. Cavernous even!

Ze Vind... She Blows!

Spent yesterday morning on the beach. But it wasn't quite as you are no doubt imagining, warm sun, gentle splashing waves, and general beachy relaxing. Due to the aforementioned wind in Tarifa the beach was virtually deserted and being a 10km beach, this means Empty with a captial E. The wind was so strong it whipped the soft cream coloured sand into streamers and sent them hurtling towards the water. Imagine foot wide epileptic snakes made out of sand and you get the general picture. (It also meant that anything bigger than a pebble also found itself aggressively urged towards the ocean... like say... me!) When the wind really started to give it a go the sand felt like thousands of tiny daggers stabbing at your skin. Sort of like an over enthusiastic scrub at a spa. And left long enough the sand would do it's darndest to obliterate any belongings left unattended on the dunes. Like say... my flip-flops which were nearly lost forever.

Still haven't figured out why the people in Tarifa are not completely bat shit crazy due to the constant wind. But I suppose it goes some way to explain the plethora of bars and watering holes found around the city.

Today is logistics day. Get laundry done. Buy one-way (!) ferry ticket to Morocco. Take out money to turn into Dirhams and pay the lovely travel tour leader in Casablanca. Figure out how the hell to get to Casablanca. Etc etc, the list goes on.

Still hasn't totally dawned on me that today is my last day in Spain. Hell! It's my last day in Continental Europe, let alone Spain! Because tomorrow I head to Africa. AFRICA!!! Bloody hell...

The Most Southern Point

Continental Europe's most southerly point is the tiny town of Tarifa. Pointed like a dagger's tip at Morocco, this small village still retains it's spanish heritage despite being so close to Africa. It probably helps that it's pretty damn touristy.

But I gather it's wind that makes Tarifa run. If the streets lined with kite and windsurfing clubs, schools, and outfitters are any indication, wind is pretty big here. Course a better indication would be the gale force that's currently whipping itself through the streets! It's a bit like standing on the front of a ferry crossing to Victoria. Except you're on land... and there's bits of crap like cigarette packets and torn up palm leaves making threatening advances towards your head... And if you turn sideways you don't get gently pushed into the siderail, you get pushed into oncoming traffic... But at least it's warm! Though it does make everyone look like they're walking drunk.

Salty Swarthy Sea Port

Cadiz. City of multicoloured buildings crammed together in a clostrophobe's nightmare of alleys, squished onto a rough edged spatula of a penisula. Love it! But I do wish it wouldn't be quite so stormy. It doesn't rain long, but when it does it's rain with the intent to murder. This stuff actually hurts!

Still, my first impressions of Cadiz are good. Today I plan to hoof it around the perimeter seawall of the old city. From what little I've seen it's a goodie. Can't really describe how cool it is to look out on a tumultuous aqua green sea and know that somewhere on the other side of that vast expanse of water is North America. I have to confess, I've been waving at it like an idiot.

Yesterday I did something I've never done before. Something entirely outside my comfort zone. I called a pension from a phone booth, asked questions about the rooms, reserved one, found the pension, and paid for the room... all in Spanish. Yowza! The pension is a local family run job and none of them speak even a lick of English. Now, I don't speak Spanish. I can mumble a few phrases like "Quiero una habitacion para tres noches" (I'd like a room for three nights). But that's about it. Luckily the tourist info office was nearby so I kept running to her going "What the heck is a 'matrimonia'?" (Double bed, for the curious.) I'm paying quite a bit more than I would for a hostel bed. But there's only one hostel in Cadiz and it's full. Sooo... pensions it is. And frankly, it's really really nice to have a room to myself. If I want to have a little sing to myself while washing my undies in the sink, then damnit I can! Ahhh freedom.

Itchin' Feet

Alright. I think I've parked on my butt for long enough and it's time to move on. Tomorrow I leave the comfortable nest that is the Rambutan. Love it there, but it's time to go. My feet are itching to see new places and meet new people.

Will miss Granada though. Funny, the longer you stay in a place the more you get to like it. You know your way around. You know the buses. You know the operating hours of most of the shops. And you get to know the people in the neighborhood too. For example, I always buy my apples from this cute little grandad that runs a grocery store up the hill from the hostel. Not necessarily because his apples are better than anyone else's, but because he always gives everyone a huge happy smile. I'd tip extra just for that little pick-me-up!

But as I said, the time has come and I'm just DYING to get to Morocco. Sure I've managed to freak myself out about it. About the touts, the anticipated verbal harassment. Completely freaked. But when I get dreaming about piles of spices, inscense wafting thorough markets, brain jostling shouts from the vendors, and sights that I haven't yet seen in Europe... how could I not be just bursting with excitement? Besides, a friend once said that if you're not even a little scared on a big trip like this, there's no point in going. What you see and experience won't mean as much. I think she's right. (Thanks Aly!) So I'll keep the fears down in the bottom of my tum, and think only of the good. Of rainbow lanterns, brilliant blue pottery, beduin jewelery, early morning prayer calls, and camel rides in the golden desert.

Socks

Oh it's a sad thing to have to put on warm socks on your holiday! But alas, the weather has finally turned and it now gets pretty darn cold, specially in the evenings. (Though this is probably partially due to the fact that I've only got summer clothes. :P) But I can't complain too much. I've had gorgeous hot sunny weather longer than most. And jeez I'm headed to Morocco at the end of the month. Mind you, I'll be mostly covered up for an entirely different set of reasons, but at least it won't be cold.

Yes indeed. The plans for Morocco have been set. I've booked myself a 15 day tour that takes me all over the country. Into the mountains. Into the souks and markets. And most important... into the desert. Camel rides!!! I am sooo looking forward to that part.

I could have done Morocco on my own. I've certainly met other women who've done it and have fabulous tales. But they've also got a truck load of bad ones. And even women who've been in tours or travelling with guys says the harrassment factor is huge and it can make things difficult. So, a tour it is! Chickening out maybe. But this is the first time I've travelled on my own after all.

For the moment though I'm just kicking back and relaxing in southern Spain. Got here a bit earlier than planned, so I've got about 2 weeks to kill. No a bad place to do it though! And besides, once the tour starts I won't have much time for relaxing. After that it's off to London for a couple days and then home.

Craziness! Can't believe I'll be home in exactly one month to the day. Not entirely sure how I feel about that yet. It'll be soooo good to sleep in a comfortable bed, to have reliable showers with *gasp* water pressure! To eat good food, and especially to spend time with friends and family. But at the same time I know I'll miss the travelling. The seeing a new city every couple days. The meeting new people from all over the world and hearing their stories. Mind you... Vancouver's probably changed a bit in the last 6 months, so it'll be fun to discover it again.

P.S. For the record: I have a tan. It's a good one. I only bring this up because if the weather continues to be grey and rainy, it won't be there when I get back home.

The Best Adjective

Twisty.

I've realized that I've described many a city with this adjective. Twisty. And it has by no means been misused. However, it wasn't until Granada that it really felt deserved. The Albayzin quarter of Granada (where my hostel happens to be located, but more on that later) is the most labrinthine mess of disjointed passages, tunnels and roadways I've yet met. I absolutely freaking love it! But it does make things a bit confusing. Example: one of the girls at the hostel gave me directions to the supermarket. I attempted my best to follow them but spent a good 2 and a half hours looking for the damn thing. Not that I minded. I got to see all sorts of back alleys and forgotten streets that most tourists probably don't bother with.

The other amazing thing about this particular part of Granada is the destinct arab/moorish influence on the buildings. Doorways are moulded with the pointed archway, tiles decorate doorframes and window ledges, and colourful blue glazed pots adorn wrought iron window boxes. Lanterns swing from balconies, deep dark wooden doors are meticulously carved in writhing florals, and there are inscense shops wafting their wares around every corner. It's still Spain though. So the favored white washed walls and terracotta tiled roofs still apply. But it's lovely to have a taste of what's to come in Morocco.

Now, a word about my hostel. The word is: Freaking awesome! Ok that's two. But let's not split hairs. The fact is I'm in love with this place. It has an increadible view of the Alhambra. A giant moorish castle settled aloft a hilltop in the middle of Granada. And there's nothing better than to sit on the bouganvillea covered patio at night overlooking that impressive fortification whilst listening to homespun guitar music. Oh, and they'll even cook you a lip smackingly goregous dinner if you're willing to shell out a mere 4 some odd euro. Ahhh heaven.

(Plug: Hostel Rambutan, how can you not love that name?, www.rambutangranada.com)

The Barber of Seville

The beach was lovely, but my feet were itching so it was time to move on... to Seville!

Curiously enough, there is a destinct lack of barbers in Seville. Surely if ever there was a marketing ploy ready for the taking, this is it. In fact, it's a miracle that there aren't fifty self proclaimed Barber's of Seville. I can see it now: "Yes, I Carlos am the true Barber of Sevilla. No! Juan, de son of a pig, iz NOT the real Barber! It iz me! Don Carlos!" *Insert outrageous flaminco dancing here* It's really a shame. I'd pay to see that.

In all seriousness, Seville is a lovely city. My map of the city has all these old beautiful buildings highlighted to help you navigate around the city. But that's actually quite useless as virtually ALL the buildings are old and beautiful. Huge goregous wooden doors, forgotten fountains, crumbling cobblestones, hundreds of horse drawn carriages (they'll stomp ya if you're not looking!), the biggest gothic cathedral I've seen yet, and an air filled with the smell of jasmine and orange blossoms. It's easy to fall in love with the place. I find myself a bit overwhelmed actually. Too much time in a lazy beach town left me a little unprepared for full on city life. "Traffic? What traffic? They HAVE traffic?"

Can't actually stay long here either. Too pricey, which is really too bad because I like it here. So tomorrow it's off to Granada. Cannot wait! Have heard far too many good things for this place to missed.

Blonde Foreign Chick

Some of you may remember that I dyed my hair brown before I left. But it seems it was in vain as a few swims in the ocean and a couple showers with cheap shampoo were enough to completely strip out all the brown midway through Italy. Leaving me a mangled mess of blonde. Fast forward a couple months and my hair is now a streaky festival of all shades of yellowy hair.

Not a huge problem back home. Just makes you look a bit trashy. But here... here it's a problem. At least for me anyways. It's the cat calls, the whistles, the weird clicking noises, and the car honks. Seems that if you are A) a woman, B) foreign, or C) blonde or any combination of the three, you get 'em all like crazy. It's actually getting a bit embarassing. Example: Walking to the beach this morning, a guy on a boat starts hollaring at me, another guy driving by honks, hangs his head out and shouts "Hey sexy baby!", and the guy at the gas station hollars "Hola! You made my day baby." Now I can ignore all this. But there happened to be about 5 middle aged tourists around me at the same time. One fellow turns around and says, "Were they shouting at you?". I just shrug, point the hair, and say "It's the blonde".

At this point it's just tiring to constantly hear that kinda crap. Where are all the nice men? Oh well, guess it's just a warm up for Morocco. Gah! When I fly back to London, British men are going to seem positively frigid!

Crickets and Cow Bells

One of the best things that can happen while travelling is to meet up again with people who you really like. So I nearly jumped for joy when Jes, a girl I hung out with in Lisbon, tapped me on my shoulder the other day and gave me a big hug. We've been marching around southern Portugal ever since.

While I'm quite happy to vegetate on a beach, Jes is far more adventurous. It's brilliant because it means I actually get to see something other than sand (which though glorious, does get a tad repetitive). Today we headed off in search of the village of Aljezur. According to Jes' highlights of Portugal book, it's a cute village in the hills with the intact ruins (?) of a moorish castle. Moorish castle? You just said the magic words! So with that we packed a picnic dinner and headed for the hills.

The bus out there was a little sketchy as it was super local and none of our fellow transportees spoke English. But through a frankenstein mess of Spanish and French we managed to get to where we needed to go. Aljezur! Adorable town with maybe 6 tourists, tops. White washed walls, rediculously tumultuous narrow cobblestone paths masquerading as streets, and millions of cats. This was my kind of village. The fact that it had a castle was just icing on the cake!

So we plunked our butts on the rubble ruins of one of the castle walls and looked out over a gorgeous misty valley filled with green farm fields and rolling hills topped with eucalyptus trees ("gum trees" for Jes). All the while cow bells twinkled and echoed across the valley. This is where we feasted on fabulously strong cheese, tomatoes and fresh bread, and assorted olives. Grapes and crisp apples for desert. And all the while I kept thinking, "I cannot believe I'm sitting on a castle wall in the middle of nowhere Portugal having a deliciously simple meal. This is just too awesome!" This is why I wanted to travel.

After the sun sunk below the hills we headed down into the wee village in search of a cafe to warm ourselves in. We found a nice enough place and were treated to warm chocolate. (We'd ordered hot chocolate, but they don't really get the concept here.) But the evening was lovely and so we drank our chocolatey drinks and played cards to kill the 2 hours before the bus ride home. Suddenly I noticed that all around was the sounds of crickets happily chirping their little hearts out. Marvellous I thought, can't get any better than this. But it did, because shortly after that the cows were lead in from the fields right beside our cafe. The night air was filled will the soft swishing of cow hooves on grass and the melodious chiming of cow bells like a hundred wind chimes sounding at once. Truly one of those wonderful things that happen because you're in the right place at the right time.

The evening was frosty, so Jes and I nearly froze in our shorts. But we kept our spirits up and even sung a rousing round of "Hail the Bus Driver". (This is what I credit for summoning the bus. It was only a scant 15 minutes late!) After a day like that, the ride home couldn't help but be viewed in a wonderous light. We had the bus almost entirely to ourselves. And gazing out the windows, shadowy forests were illuminated by the golden misty moon and skattering light from the bus headlights. The entire ride back we were serenaded by Jonny Cash on the radio. This day is definitely one to remember.

Surf Paradise

On Thursday I hooked up with 6 of my fellow hostel mates and headed to the south-west coast of Portugal. Two of the girls had rented a car and offered to take us to this awesome beach. So if you can imagine 7 people, 1 small 4 door hatchback, assorted towels, water bottles, and picnic gear trundling along a bumpy Portuguese highway. It was a complete clown car. Best of all was when a police truck came up behind us. People were squished down, covered with towels and we all did our best to look non-plussed by the fact that 5 young fit people could cause a car to ride so impossibly low. Luckily they had something else in mind and didn't pay any attention.

The beach was incredible! Surrounded by tawny red gold sandstone hills, pounding crystal clear surf, and the bluest sky I've seen in ages, it was impossible not to fall in love with this place. The fact that it was filled with goregous hard bodied surfers didn't hurt either. ;)

Yesterday I headed out with a couple guys and we scrambled along some of the paths on the sandstone cliffs in search of a secluded beach to call our own. After a good trek we found it. Only problem was we had to scramble down a pretty steep slope. Me being more than a little spooked by a certain previous brush with falling, was pretty nervous. But the guys were more than helpful and managed to find a rope to use to help getting down. Again, this beach was goregous! And because of the steep climb we had it all to ourselves. Well mostly... most of the boats that tour the grottoes stopped by this beach. And for awhile we became tourist attractions as all wanted to know how the hell we got to that beach. Was kinda neat.

Lagos, the home base for these beachy excursions, is rediculously touristy. It's a crass unabashed resort town and backpacker piss-up spot. You're either white haired and retired or in your twenties and a scruffy backpacker. There is no in-between. Still, it's a beautiful spot to chill out. A piece of a normal vacation to break up the travelling.

Re: Lazy in Lisbon

Regarding the near death experience in Sintra: please chock this up to my indulgent over-dramatic poetic license. Thank you for the concerned emails, but it wasn't as bad as all that. Guess I'm a little too convincing in my tales. :(

The reality is I had a little stumble, but it was in no way life endangering. Just one of those moments where your heart leaps into your throat. If I HAD fallen it would have been onto some remarkably plush green grass about 6 feet down. I would have been fine. Though I doubt the camelia bush between me and the ground would have faired so well!

But rest assured I intend to be much more careful.

Today I'm off in search of a Lisbon specialty. PASTRIES! Yes. Beautiful creamy, butt enlarging tarts are the goal of the day. It would be a crime not to sample such delicacies!

Lazy in Lisbon

The 8 hour bus from Madrid to Lisbon wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. But still LONG nonetheless. More so because I'd thought it was only 7 hours. However, because Portugal is an hour behind Spain it was actually 8. Ugh. But being harrassed by a hoard of massive geese at some backwater trucker stop greasy spoon made an entertaining break. The country side was pretty too. If, like me, rolling hills of golden fields, tufty dark green trees, and wandering farm animals are your thing.

Arrived in Lisbon pretty late, so I didn't do much except get in a couple of those deep philosophical / political / moral conversations that backpackers LOVE to have over a couple bottles of wine. The next day was a bit more productive despite the rain as I managed to get a couple museums under my belt. Dumping my 1gb memory card on CD proved an interesting expierence given I don't speak Portuguese and the woman at the photo counter didn't speak any English. Still, we muddled through.

Yesterday was a bit weird. Apparently every single hostel in Lisbon was booked solid last night. Even the extra mattresses and couches were taken. So rather than spend the whole day desperately searching for a bed, I skipped town. A bit to the west is a cute little (touristy) town called Sintra. And it was there that I spent the night. Completely dead in terms of nightlife, but lovely in terms of scenery. Within an hours walk of the old town city center you can reach two palaces, their gardens, and the ruins of a Moorish castle. So awesome! Even if I did nearly fall off the ramparts to my death. Worst part is, there a bunch of tourists out there with photos of me and my near death experience. "Oh look honey. Here's where that girl nearly bashed her brains out on the 500 mt drop off the castle. How cute!" I blame it entirely on my imbalanced daypack. It had nothing to do with my clumsiness whatsoever.

Today I'm back in Lisbon at my homey hostel (it has cats!). I don't have any plans other than wandering the hills of Lisbon and seeing the sights. It's sunday so pretty much all the shops and markets are closed. But the old center of the city should still be interesting. It'll be a lazy day, but lazy days are always good.

Holy Toledo!

Sunday I arrived in Madrid, dumped my bag at the hostel and headed straight for the Museo del Prado. Home of hundreds of delicious paintings. Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" is a favorite.

After chilling out in the atrium in my hostel (it's a converted "palace", aka "big house" with a moorish style fountain in the center and islamic writing carved into wood panels on the walls.) I met two Vancouver girls in my dorm room. Been spending the last couple days with them.

Yesterday we headed to Toledo. Neat place. Small and medieval-ish with twisting streets and outrageous sword displays in the tourist shops. Apparently sword craft is a toledo thing. But why all the Lord of the Rings stuff? Frodo doesn't exactly scream spanish. It took all our willpower not to break out into a sword fight. And yes... I did get to shout "Holy Toledo!". Unfortunately it was when about 15 men decided to voice their appreciation for blonds. Was actually a bad day for that. When we got back to the bus station in Madrid more men made with the cat calls and the rude gestures. All time best one had to be when I walked by a guy I assume as northern african and all he said was "Hey... I fuck you." Well at least it's the most direct pick-up line I've ever received!

Today we pretty much just wandered around in a daze. It's Tawney (one of the above mentioned Vancouver girls) birthday today so last night we went out to sample some of Madrid's night life. And well... most venues don't really open in Spain until at least 1am. So it ended up being quite the late night. Got some good dancing in though and have the sore abs to prove it!

"I Told Him We Already Got One..."

The last couple days have been gorgeous and sunny. However today the weather has decided to throw a small temper tantrum and it's raining buckets. (Funny... it never goes half mesures here in Spain. It's either all out sun or pissing rain.) But this just means it's a perfect time for a recap!

Tried out another beach the other day as the La Malvarossa city beach left me wanting. So a girl from my hostel and I trotted off to discover... El Saler! Dun, dun dun! Directions were hazy. Our grasp of the language was more shaky than an earthquake. And we failed to bring adequate provisions. (aka Water). But after much waiting, wandering, and even a bit of bushwacking through a sea of mini holly bushes, pine trees, and every other sort of prickly plant we reached the beach at last. And it was much much nicer than the city beach. Hardly any tourists, which was lovely. Definitely a locals beach.

Prior to that adventure, I'd done a bit of wandering around town. Valencia's just a regular city, with regular people, doing regular things. But it still has a neat Spanish-ness which was neat to see. But DAMN do I hate the siesta! Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a mid day nap as much as the next girl. But 5 hours is pushing it. Especially in the middle of the day (anywhere between noon and 6pm) when you're trying to get things done. Oh well... just gotta go with the flow.

So to fill up my time during one of these prolonged siestas I went and saw... wait for it... the HOLY GRAIL! (Weren't expecting that one were you?) That's right, Valencia is home to the only holy grail officially recognized by the Vatican, albeit tentatively. They've got it locked up behind glass pretty tightly, but here's what I could make out (with a bit of help from the postcards!). The cup is maybe 8-9 inches tall, with the cup part made out of carved agate (this is the part that is supposed to be from the 1st century). The stem and handles are gold, riddled with rubies and emeralds, and probably a few other gems. (This part is from the middle ages.) Near as I can figure the cup's validity owes a lot to it's apperance is certain famous renaissance paintings of the last supper. But who knows, maybe the papal powers have super grail detection skills that we mere plebs are unaware of. Either way it was neat to see, even if I did have Monty Python running through my head the entire time. "I Told Him We Already Got One..."

Just Beachy

So my suspicions were unfounded and I indeed got my day at the beach in the sun. Valencia's beach is not the loveliest I've seen. But provided you keep your eyes away from the construction cranes, port buildings, and some of the ugliest residential appartments I've ever seen, then the beach is just lovely! Rolling blue waves and pretty sea shells littering the shore. There were a few sail boats out on the water too. Still haven't gotten used to the topless sunbathers though. Almost always warrants a double take when I realize that wasn't a beige top that woman had on. Maybe by Portugal I'll get used to it.

Was great to just flake out. Can't actually say I did anything today, which was exactly what I needed. Got some sun. Read a bit. And otherwise flopped out on the sand. And it really was proper sand. I haven't seen good grainy gets-in-your-shorts sand since I left Vancouver. Feel a bit like I've just been exfoliated at the spa actually. Which considering how long I've been travelling and using crappy showers is probably a very good thing! :P

Tomorrow will be the culture day. It'll give my pink burnt face a chance to calm down!

The Rain in Spain...

"The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain"... No it bloody well does not!!!
I landed in Barcelona on Tuesday and was treated to a torrential downpour. The skies crackled with lightning, thunder boomed across the house tops, and it rained so hard that my wee guesthouse was nearly flooded. (More to do with frankenstein like building additions than the storm, but still!) And here I left 27 degrees in Berlin for 15 and pouring rain. You could swim through this stuff!

What's a girl to do? Well... put some proper shoes on, tough it out, and make sure she's not wearing a white top. :P I did not come all this way to stay in some manky hostel. So with that attitude I proceeded to get myself thoroughly soaked. But I did managed to take in the Picaso Museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art, and a million wee churches. Also saw the big gothic Cathedral. Which actually is probably best seen in a huge storm like that. It suits the Gothicy feel to have flashes of lightning illuminate the faces of the demons and bizzare stone creatures carved into the walls. And it was quite the sight to see the roof gargoyles bursting water out of their mouths with a force that would rival most fire hoses. So there you go, had the weather not been determined to drown me, I never would have seen that.

But things are improving. The weather has decided to cast a few rays of sun during the day. (Still rains at night though.) And I've switched hostels to a more central location, which will make it easier to get around. Though that had more to do with the aforementioned guesthouse screwing up my reservation than anything else... Still, gotta look on the bright side. At least now I won't have to lug my 18kg pack as far when I catch the train!

And I'm enjoying Barcelona. In fact, I'm even toying with the idea of coming back here for a Catalan Fiesta that's happening next weekend. Apparently the whole city erupts into a giant party. Music on every corner. Events for free. That sort of thing.

But for the moment the plan is to spend a few more days here and then head off to Valencia in search of warm weather and toasty beaches. I remain skeptical. :P

Friends, Finds, and Fotos

Berlin has been good to me.
Yes I'm only thinking of the good. Like a new lover I've got a permanant set of rosy eyeballs through which I'm seeing everything. But even the bog stench of the city isn't enough to deter my affections.

And so as the saying goes, time has flown while I had fun. It helps that I had two good buddies to hang out with (and made a few more along the way!). Simone and Corrina have headed off to Prague after four rediculously fun days. Thanks guys! It was awesome.

But here's a quick recap to cover my Berlin-capades.
Have done all the touristy things such as the Brandenburg Gate, Memorial the Murdered Jews of Europe (not exactly a happy title, but effective, and isn't that the point?), Museum Island, Bableplatz (Nazi book burning square), and the redone modern glass dome on the Reichstag (soooo cool!). Even took a boat ride down the river Spree (pernounced like "spray" but with a bit more phlegmy rasp).

Really enjoyed the Reichstag. Too cool of a building. Read more about it here. But the best part had to be running into Elizabeth a PhD student of Archaelogy at Cambridge. Brillant that she is, she even managed to instruct a lout like me on how to use my camera properly. She had exactly the same one, but with a million better lenses. Now have many delicious photos of reflective glass and interesting modern architecture. Thanks Elizabeth!

Yesterday all of us were feeling a bit damaged from the night previous (I curse you red wine! Curse you!). So with slow plodding steps headed over to one of three flea markets that Berlin hosts ever Sunday. Holy heck! This place was amazing. If you're ever in Berlin on a Sunday, go. You won't regret it. And unlike flea markets back home, there was plenty of new things as well. I managed to pick up a neat shirt by a local graffiti artist. (Not to mention picking his brains on how he made them!) Also scored a super cheap copy of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories. Neatest bit was that the guy selling them made me pick a random bookmark card from a deck. After I selected a pretty blue one, he turned it over and translated the poem written on the other side. (Poem was in german despite being by a South American poet.) The basic jist of the poem is "Don't run too fast, your inner child won't be able to keep up." Good idea to live by I think.

Today all the museums I wanted to see are all closed (Damn you Europe and your weird museum closed days!). So I spent it shopping instead! The damage? Six Copic markers (have been drooling over these for years.) and a pair of black and white Onitsuka Tiger runners (have been lusting over these since Genoa). Yes it cost a bit. But it could have been WAY worse as there are a billion stores near my hostel that I would be quite happy to completely deprive of merchandise. Oh well, next time Berlin!

Tomorrow I hop a plane for Barcelona, Spain. Time to chase the warmer weather. I'm so done with this Autumn thing. :P

You look familiar...

Strange things happen when you're travelling. Call in coincidence. Call it fate. Call it damn weird. Whatever you call it, it happens... a lot. People say it's a small world. Well... it's not if you've ever been on a torturously slow Polish train. But at the same time it is.

This morning I woke up. Groggily rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Dragged my body up to a sitting position and started blinking furiously. There in the bed across the room, also blinking furiously, was Simone. My kiwi friend who I met on the boat from Bari to Dubrovnik. One of several people that I spent a little over a week with in Croatia. What where the chances? My sleepy brain certainly couldn't compute it, try as it might. So with hushed steps and barely audible whispers we crept out of our beds and into the hallway... Where we promptly squeeled like two little piglets at meal time and hugged ourselves silly. (No doubt undoing all the delicate quietness we'd been so careful to preserve!) I knew our mutual friend Corrina was due to arrive in Berlin soon, but I had no idea about Simone. Let alone waking up in not only the same hostel, but the same damn dorm!

Call it coincidence. Call it fate. Call it awesome.

Bangin Berlin

I love Berlin.

I'm going to be honest about it. I am in love with this city. I want one of those rediculous "I heart Berlin" buttons because it's true.

The one benefit of having a city completely obliterated by bombs (a la WWII) is that the reconstruction makes the city almost entirely modern. Glass and steel everywhere. But the people are pretty modern too. The average age of those living in Berlin is 27. This means you have a energetic lively population obsessed with things like fashion, music, computers, underground culture, and everything else guaranteed to make me drool like one of Pavlov's dogs.

But lest you think that Berlin is nothing but a city overrun with punky unruly masses, rest assured it has more than enough "proper" culture to appease the most diehard fan of the classics. After all, the Germans were only second to the British in their tendency to "borrow" the treasures of other cultures. As such, they've got a class A museum in the Pergammon. They also have a thing for Opera here, so it's possible for those with a student card (sadly not me) to see the fat lady sing for the low low price of 8 euro. Not too shabby.

And as for art galleries, you can't get away from them. They are quite literally everywhere. Can't guarantee the quallity of all of them as some really go for that far out weird installation stuff. But the will is there and I love it.

Now I'm off to check out the ultra modern redone glass dome on the Riechstag (zee German parliament) because it's cool and best of all... it's free!

Half Way And A Day

Yesterday was the half way mark in the trip. Exactly three months from when I arrived in London all those many days ago.

Actually, it´s gone by remarkably fast. And yet when I think back to Italy it seems both ages ago and like it was just yesterday. Part of being a backpacker I think. You exist in a timewarp bubble where the outside world barely has any influence. Days run into one another, time passes faster than a fat kid on candy then slows down to the time defying pace of a monotonous university lecture. And don´t even attempt to guess what day it is. It´s hard enough trying to remember the numeric date, let alone something so slippery as the verbal day name. (I personally like to invent new ones. Today for example, is "iwatcheddonnkiedarko" while yesterday was "estonianciderwillmakeyousick".)

Tomorrow I head out on the fast ferry to Helsinki. Technically I´m only going to be in the city for about 4 hours. Just long enough to hop off the boat, catch the half hour long bus to the airport, wiggle my way through customs, and get myself onto my darling "budget" airline to Berlin. Should be fun!

Blood and Water

So I´ve decided to camp out in Tallinn for a couple more days than I had originally planned.
A) Because I´m too poor and can´t afford pricey Helsinki and B) because I´m EXHAUSTED and very probably malnourished. So I figure it´s time I spent a couple days relaxing and getting my health back up to snuff.

Speaking of health issues... I don´t know who I´ve offended but my luck with mosquito bites has officially and emphatically run out. Good Lord! Between Riga and Tallinn I´ve literally been eaten alive. I think my total is running at about 43 bites over two days. They´re greedy little bastards! I spent a good 15 minutes sitting on a park bench yesterday scratching my legs like a woman possessed. Must have been very amusing because I kept having little old Finnish or Estonian ladies coming up to me, muttering something in their own language and then going "Ouch ouch ouch!". To which I could only smile weakly, sigh, and resume my scratching. At this point I´ve resorted to coating my skin in 100% Deet. It´ll probably kill me, but at least I´ll take some of those blood sucking demons with me!

While I´m ranting, I´d like to mention a bit about the water in the Baltics. To put it bluntly... it stinks. Literally. I find myself hopping out of the shower, having a whiff, and wondering whether I´m actually clean or not. Truly, it´s awful. And then last night at dinner while I´m blissfully drinking a huge glass of tap water one of my hostel mates pipes up and says "So I hear the water here won´t be completely safe to drink until 2010." Speeeeeeeeeew! Thanks mate. :P

So if I return home with deformed lumpy skin from the bites, and a third arm and purple hair from the water, you´ll know why.

The Secret Silver Screen

Riga. Capital of Latvia. Cute little old town filled with art nouveaux buildings. And home to roving hordes of British stag parties. These guys are the WORST! Obsessed with getting pissed out of their minds they couldn't give a shit about the country itself. Only that the beer is cheaper than back home. Hate that.

But besides the stag crowds, Riga is pretty nice. Not a whole lot to do in the old town. Could probably see everything you need to in about half a day. But it's fun to wander around and get lost in the twisty streets.

Went to the Central Markets yesterday. My God! This is like the Vancouver night market on steroids. They literally have everything imaginable on sale. Here's a sample of what I saw: shoes, sunglasses, fur coats, fur hats, fishing hooks, zippers, brand name plastic bags, knock off hand bags, sewing needles, thread (not found at the same stall as the needles), soap, underwear, power cables, brooms, cooking pots, kettles, microwaves, old tvs, bottle openers, pocket knives, jeans, hoodies, belts, cooked meat, smoked meat, raw meat, rotten meat (no lie, apparently there's a market for it), fruits and vegetables of every kind, millions of cut flowers (smelt soooo good!), and of course the mandatory collection of pirated DVDs and CDs. So fun!

But the highlight yesterday wasn't scoping out the weird Latvian market stalls. While hanging out at the hostel I met a British guy who's working here as a 3d modeller (go fig) and he took me to a local short film festival. It's put on by an international group so the films were either in english or had english subtitles. It was SO awesome! The festival was pretty short, but it was housed in a collection of warehouses that have been turned over to a bunch of young local artists. So they've covered the walls with graffiti, modified commerical posters and logos (eg: US Mail becomes US Female), strung army camoflage netting over some of the building sides, hung huge mirrors at odd angles from the ceiling along with what looked like paper mache "rocks". Some of the rooms had arty knick knacks for sale, while others were like a mini dance party. (Apparently Latvians really love Dead Can Dance.) And the best part? No tourists. And definitely no British stag parties. Was neat to hang with the locals for awhile.

Please sir... Can I have my passport back?

Hopped on the bus from Vilnius to Riga today. Lovely ride... if you like being stuck in a humid sweat box filled with other people's airborne fluids. :P

Latvia looks pretty similar to Lithuania. The houses are a little bit uninteresting in comparison though. But the one thing that Latvia does have that Lithuania doesn't is scary border guards. The Lithuania guy was so done up with medals and other shiny parafanalia it was hard to take him seriously. But these guys... different story.

When we came to the border we naturally had to hand over our passports to the guy checking. Because mine requires stamping (not an EU citizen) he collected mine and a few other people's and hopped off the bus. A few minutes later the bus motors up and pulls away from the border. And I'm thinking "SHIT!!! Passport... Scary guard... ACK! Give back!!!" Mere seconds before I mount a mutiny on the bus driver to get him to turn around, the second driver appears and hands me my passport. He'd hopped on the back entrance without me looking.

This must be a well known border guard trick because I'm sure something similar happened to my Dad when he was travelling... :P

Hippy Weirdsville

Arrived in Vilnius, Lithuania after a torturously long train ride. (Polish trains are not known for their speed. There was also a 2 hour delay due to a brutal train wreck on the tracks further up from my train. Train smacked into a truck carrying dried cement. Very nasty.)

Gorgeous countryside. It rained a bit on the train ride, so we were treated to rainbows throughout the entire journey through Lithuania. Absolutely adored some of the farm houses. It looked a bit like someone had taken a hippy paint box and splattered them all over. So you'd have a yellow house with purple window frames and an orange door or a green house with pink window frames and a red door etc etc. Loved it!

Lithuania is markedly poorer than Poland. Houses are a bit more shacky, the cars are older, and the towns are quite small. (At least outside Vilnius anyways.) But the people are friendly and it's the first place I've seen that reminds me a bit of home. Maybe that's why I had homesickness dreams last night. :P

Yesterday I went to see the sights of Vilnius, such as they are. Unlike most capital cities, there isn't any one thing that you "must see". No Eiffel tower. No Tower bridge. Instead it's just this neat little city with a pretty large old quarter that flows gently into the newer buildings. Lots of churches though. But Vilnius harbours the vestiges of a free thinking revolution that occured after they gained independence. It's evident in such strange things as the statue to Frank Zappa and the self-declared republic of Uzupio. They even have their own constitution!

Constitution:

1. Everone has the right to live by the River Vilnele and the River Vilnele has the right to flow by everyone.
2. Everyone has the right to hot water, heating in winter, and a tiled roof.
3. Everyone has the right to die, but this is not an obligation.
4. Everyone has the right to make mistakes.
5. Everyone has the right to be unique.
6. Everyone has the right to love.
7. Everyone has the right to be loved, but not necessarily.
8. Everyone has the right to be undistinguished and unknown.
9. Everyone has the right to be idle.
10. Everyone has the right to love and take care of the cat.
11. Everyone has the right to look after the dog until one of them dies.
12. A dog has the right to be a dog.
13. A cat is not obliged to love it's owner, but must help in time of need.
    
14. Sometimes everyone has the right to be unaware of their duties.
15. Everyone has the right to be in doubt, but this is not an obligation.
16. Everyone has the right to be happy.
17. Everyone has the right to be unhappy.
18. Everyone has the right to be silent.
19. Everyone has the right to have faith.
20. No one has the right to violence.
21. Everyone has the right to appreciate their unimportance.
22. No one has the right to have a design on eternity.
23. Everyone has the right to understand.
24. Everyone has the right to understand nothing.
25. Everyone has the right to be of any nationality.
26. Everyone has the right to celebrate or not celebrate their birthday.
27. Everyone shall remember their name.
28. Everyone may share what they possess.
29. No one can share what they do not possess.
30. Everyone has the right to have brothers, sisters and parents.
31. Everyone may be independent.
32. Everyone is responsible for their freedom.
33. Everyone has the right to cry.
34. Everyone has the right to be misunderstood.
35. No one has the right to make another person guilty.
36. Everyone has the right to be individual.
37. Everyone has the right to have no rights.
38. Everyone has the right not to be afraid.
39. Do not defeat.
40. Do not fight back.
41. Do not surrender.

I should mention that Uzupio is more home to drunks and vagabonds than artists and true bohemians these days, but the feeling is still there. They also have some awesome stencil graffiti! My personal favorite: "Don't watch porn. Use your imagination!".

Dear Poland...

Dear Poland,

I'll be frank. I didn't like you.
You were bleak and dull and very uninspiring. Yes, yes, your people are very sweet and I find their attchment to their weiner dogs very amusing. However, there just wasn't any "you-ness". Nothing to distinguish you. No love. And frankly, it got on my nerves and I couldn't wait to leave.

That was until Warsaw. Now I know people have said that your capital city is nothing but a huge collection of communist concrete monstrosities (and they wouldn't be wrong in some neighborhoods), but I've had an great time here.

I admire that your people completely rebuilt the old town from scratch as it was obliterated in the war. But what I ADORE is your contemporary art gallery. It showed me you have a soul, Poland. Every other capital is nothing but the same ol' collection of Baroque facades. But you've pulled yourself up and made yourself anew. And that, is truly awesome. Don't let anyone forget it.

Hugs and Kisses,
- Sarah

Images of Poland

Empty Krakow streets at 6am. Makes it easy to wander aimlessly across roads without getting smushed by roving trams. Bread ring sellers offering poppy seed covered goodies for less than the smallest coin in my pocket. Faces of old Pols like narled wood. Why do all Polish men have square heads? Cars which drive up onto the sidewalks to allow buses to pass by. Enormous cobble stones designed to mangle tourists' unwary feet. The Art Bunker in Krakow with a myriad of delicious contemporary art. (The video of the guys dressed up as Marilyn Monroe singing "happy birthday", bit weird.) Fields and fields of corn. Men pitching hay into a wooden horse drawn cart. Heavy ashy mournful Auschwitz. Children twirling in the "Parky" surrounding the old square in Krakow. Games of sharades with pharmacists. Orange cough candies that taste like licorice. Huge square concrete appartment blocks, Polish "living quarters". Piles of fresh baked pastries. Oh how I love the apple whatever it's called! Dark old square lit up with the pinky purple hue of sunset. Deep folksy woods, whispering ancient tales of times gone by.

Auschwitz

Today I went to Auschwitz.
I don't really know where to start. I haven't even had enough time to let the sights and feelings sink in. Auschwitz is a painful place. What words can describe the millions murdered with that terrible efficency? What sounds can be put together to faithfully communicate the impression of that bleak place? I don't know. I haven't got them. Instead I can tell you that I felt like someone had punched me square in the chest. That this punch refused the laws of physics and instead of recoiling, it remained. A constant and choking pressure, forcing breath from my lungs and tears to my eyes. I don't think I have any Jews amongst my ancestors. But I am human. And the hurt of Auschwitz is a hurt to humanity too. And I feel it.

You all know the history. I needn't repeat it. But I did learn something today that made my heart ache a little bit more. Today I learned that the prisoners in Auschwitz referred to the warehouses containing all their precious and worldly belongings as "Canada". They called it this because, like the nation which was a promised land, it was full of riches. How terribly odd it is to see my homeland's name imprinted on pictures adorning those haunted walls. How much worse to think of the desperate hope those prisoners had, that one day they may reach that land with their lives and belongings intact. How much sadder is it when the faces in the pictures then cease to be flat collections of ink shapes and become ghosts of breathing people with fears and hopes and dreams.

I don't think I will sleep well tonight.

Krak-owie

The next leg of the journey is Krakow. Alas, alack, the only train leaving from Prague to Krakow was an overnight train. And this particular route comes packed with all sorts of traveller horror stories. The tale is that late one dark and stormy night while you are sweetly sawing logs, some sinister force comes and pumps sleeping gas into your cabin. Knocking you out and giving free reign to their sticky fingers. You wake up the next morning a tad groggy and several pounds of luggage/money/passports lighter. But, at least for me, this was not the case. And although I had a brutal night with only a fleeting time spent in the persuit of sleep, all of my belongings remain blissfully in my possession.

So it is with a desperate grogginess that I lumbered off the train at the happy hour of 6am this morning and stumbled towards my hostel. Cought a couple hours of "sleep" in the hostel common area and then headed out to make something of my day. My bed wasn't ready until 1pm, so I had about 3 hours to kill. Spent most of the time wandering aimlessly around the old town, trying not to blame Krakow for my murderously sore throat. (A parting gift from the night train.)

My first impressions of Krakow are coloured with the approach of a cold, so I'm going to hold off on giving a review until I've had a decent nights sleep and with luck a couple Polish cold pills.

Fairy Tales

From wet and rainy Vienna I headed up to Prague. Lovely lovely Prague.
The rain teased me a little, tossing the occational splatter as if to say "Don't get too cocky, missy!" So I took that to heart and bought myself a new long-sleeved shirt. New clothing! God I've missed you!

Prague was neat. Very medieval fairy tale like.
A lot of the buildings had black tiled roofs and tall pointed towers. Making it seem like a city populated by evil witches bent on putting small german children to sleep and sticking princesses in gingerbread houses. Was neat to just wander about the streets and get lost. Barely looked at my map. Touristy though. And the roving stag parties were unbelievably crass. No wonder the locals look on tourists with such distain.

After Prague I find myself in the small town of Cesky Krumlov, down in the south. AWESOME place. Still pretty touristy. But in the evenings most of them pile back on their tour buses or head back to the safety of their hotel rooms. Seems like every second building here is a pension though. Regardless, the town itself is super neat. Winding streets and peasant puppet shops galore. Definitely a nice chillout place.

Wet Like Home

I'm drenched!
I suppose it's karma for complaining about the hot weather. Now Europe is determined to drown me. I managed to avoid the downpours and drizzels in Budapest, but Vienna really has it in for me. I mean, I even had to buy an umbrella today! Things are grim.

Between the huge flood-like drops of rain I've managed to see a bit of Vienna. Beautiful city. Very aristocratic. But I keep looking for a more gritty modern side. I'm tired of seeing the ostentatious 18th Century buildings. I want to see the modern things, what's hot in fashion and art etc. Haven't had much luck with Vienna. It was easier in Budapest. Though I have to admit I haven't had much chance to see anything. Yesterday was Sunday so everything was closed and today everything is obliterated by the rain. Poop. Oh well, guess it just means I'll have to come back to Vienna another time. :)

Tomorrow I head off to Prague. (Or "Prag-you" as one of my hostel mates in Budapest called it.) It'll be rediculously touristy, but it's gotta be seen and with luck I'll be able to head out into the country side. I found a tour that'll take you out, but it includes a boat tour through some caves and I'm really done with caves for awhile. But I'll definitely take a forest. You know, with trees... and grass... and animals... generally living things all around. Yeah. Forest. Woods. Whatever. That's what I want. Here's hoping!

Terror!

Yesterday, determined to be more productive, a group of us headed off to the Terror Museum in Pest. Absolutely amazing museum. Sure they have an agenda to villify the Nazi and Stalin regimes, but it was laid out brillantly with lost of audio visual things to occupy easily bored minds. Some of the footage was pretty brutal though. You never would see this kind of stuff in Germany. (Did notice that they downplayed the involvement of the Hungary goverment though.) Still, definitely worth a visit.

After that Alon (who I actually met back in Genova), Rob, Elisa, and I headed off to find some "authentic Hungarian food" and find it we did! Holy deliciousness. I don't know what Guinea Foul is but damn is it good! After that we got right into the partying mood and spent the night hopping from place to place. Good times.

But the evening finished up with one of the most terrifying and surreal taxi rides of my life. After bartering hard for the price we squished ourselves clown car style into a wee cab and took off for the hostel. Unfortunately in our less that sober state must have been a bit annoying to the poor cabbie because I soon found myself in this situation: flying along at breakneck speed along side the black inky Danube river, not having a clue where we were, and listening to... I kid you not... the Hamster dance song played full volume. Truly terrifying. ;)

Deep Dark Budapest

Left the parks for Zagreb with Nial and Eimear. Not much to see in Zagreb. Pretty dead city really. Pity too, I was kind of hoping for some vestiges of communism or such, but no it's pretty western. The most exciting thing about Zagreb was the massive thunderstorm we had. The wind howled, the rain fell in what I can only describe as torrents, and the lightning smacked across the sky. I LOVED IT. But I guess they don't get storms like that in Ireland because Eimear and Nial would have none of it. So we headed back inside the hostel just in time to avoid being drowned by the Croatian rain. Probably a good thing too, because moments after we got up to our room the wind ripped a chunk of plaster off the building across the street and flung it to the ground, narrowly missing a few cafe patrons.

After and extremely long and uncomfortable train ride, I arrived in Budapest.
Checking the directions to my hostel with the info center my heart sank. My hostel was a good bit outside the center of town and required some bus riding in order to get there. But it turned out to be not quite the haul I imagined and in the end I was glad I hadn't listened to the hostel touts at the train station. My hostel is AWESOME! It's a complete hippy guesthouse complete with theme rooms (The Jungle Room, The Love Shack, The Green Room, The Bob Marley Room, Ganesh's Palace and such.) and incense wafting through the air. The staff is super sweet too, which makes it all the more homey.

Yesterday I woke up with an urge to explore, so I tagged along with a few of my hostel mates to the Statue Park to take a gander at a collection of soviet sculpture. Bit weird because Hungary has effectively exiled the statues to the outskirts of Budapest. Though I suppose anything less would be seen as an endorsement of communism.

After the statues a group of us signed up to do some caving in the thermal caves underneath Buda. I'd seen photos of this from the Modern Gonzo guy, but seeing and doing are two totally different things. What a trip! I never could have imagined myself crawling army style on my belly through impossibly small tunnels and squishing myself into and out of outrageously small cracks in the rock. (Though apparently our tour was through the "easy" part.) It was pretty slippery though, so I compensated by using my flimsy and practically non-existent arm muscles. So I'm a bit (a lot!) sore today. But it's a good sore. It's a "I've just crawled down through the freaking earth and back again. HOOYAH!" kind of sore. It's a "I never thought I'd do that ever in my entire life, but I DID!" kind of sore. So all said and done, it was an awesome experience and I'm SO glad I did it.

However, today I did absolutely nothing. Literally I just bummed about the hostel and read and chatted and chilled out. It was lovely. Especially when we had another thunderstorm here and the power went out. (I actually wanted the power to stay out longer!) Was neat hanging out with my hostel mates, chatting by candle light.

Tomorrow I'm determined to have a more productive day. Maybe make it to the museums or the thermal baths. We'll see!

Hvar and Co.

The Ferry Four
Naill has dubbed himself, Eimear, Simone, and I the "ferry four" as the four of us met crossing over on the ferry from Bari to Dubrovnik. In a repeat performance the four of us headed off to the island of Hvar. Beautiful beautiful place!

Upon arriving at our little island paradise we were "treated" to a horde of room hockers fighting for our wee pennies. Bit weird actually, having 6 different people argue over you. One woman was especially alarming. All the more so because at first glance I thought she had a small sea urchin clinging desperately to her upper lip. Closer inspection (she insisted on talking a whole 2 inches from my face) revealed that it was instead a particularly gruesome hairy mole.

After finding a nice place (not with the urchin woman) we dumped our gear and headed into town. Craving meat we treated ourselves to some pretty good steaks. I say pretty good, because as far as I can tell there aren't a lot of cows on Hvar. Still the night was good. Even more so because we also treated ourselves to 3 litres of potent house white. Having become quite jolly, the evening began to degrade from there. Simone wanted to check out diving centers and I joined her, but in the process we lost Naill and Eimear. Then Simone and I headed into a club (apparently extremely drunk female tourists don't have to pay cover on Hvar!) and then I lost her too after she headed out to find water at the bar. At this point I found myself completely alone in a strange club with double vision. Yikes!

Still, I managed to work things out. After several fantastically unsuccessful attempts to find the appartment in the pitch black streets, I managed to cajole an American guy into being chivalrous and walking me up and down the dark streets. Still no luck in finding the place though. 3am in the morning showed up and I still couldn't find any of the others or the appartment we were staying in. But the manager of the club took pity on me and after showing him the business card of the woman who owned the appartment he grabbed a buddy's motorcycle and gave me a lift up the hill to the door. So weird being driven around in almost pitch black streets, in a town you don't know, clinging to some strange man's back. That's one for the record!

Once I got back I found Simone and the others in bed. Soo glad to have found Simone. We basically spent the next 30mins appologizing for losing and abandoning each other. Apparently she'd spent a stressful night as well desperately trying all the dark stairwells that lead up the hillside in vain hope that one of them would be the right one. We had a huge hug. :)

So let that be a lesson to you. ALWAYS remember landmarks for where your room is!

Rakija
After Hvar the Ferry Four headed up to Zadar and connected up with Verity, Corinna, and Jinny who we'd met in Dubrovnik. (The boys showed up a day later.) The plan was to head to the Paklencia national park and do some hiking. For some reason I had it in my head I'd be hiking in leafy green woods, but instead was transported to the scortching hot surface of Mars. I swear even the tree sap was bubbling. The aim of the hike was to reach this cave and see the stalagtites and stalagmites. Now I had always imagined that caves were near the bottom of mountains. Not so! This beastie lay at the very top of the bloody mountain. Ugh! I nearly died! Still, such a sense of achievement for having done it and not copped out. Go me!

On the way back we passed a stand where a woman was selling home brewed wine and something called Rakija. Now, my friend Marenko had told me a little bit about this particular beverage. So when the crew asked what it was I had his words echoing in my mind. "Sarah, seriously. This stuff is Croatian moonshine. It'll make you go blind." Funnily enough, having passed on those words of wisdom, the warning instead became a selling point and two 1.5 litre bottles were bought. (I say bottles, but really they were reused plastic juice bottles with coca cola caps. So reasurring.) Over the course of the next two nights we came to call this golden pink liquor "magic juice" and as far as I can tell it's basically a grape brandy. But damn is it good! Though Marenko's warning was not without merit, for the guys who indulged severely in the newly monikered magic juice woke up with a hangover which only a quick trip to the guillotine would be sure to cure.

On a completely different note, Corinna the super genius showed me how to upload pictures through Blogger. Apparently it's got it's own photo storage and resize capabilities. So tomorrow I'll treat you all to a select few pictures of the last 2 months.

The Crew

As I mentioned before, Naill, Eimear, Simone and I have crashed at the impossibly awesome appartment. But what makes this appartment so much more great is that we've connected up with Corinna, Verity, Jinny, Alf (short for Alfred), and Alistair. And just like some crazy japanese sci-fi together we combine to form THE CREW. (Over the top posturing included).

Strangely enough we're all travelling in vaguely the same direction to Zadar. Although we'll break off into smaller groups and take slightly different routes to get there. From there the plan is to head off to some of the national parks in Croatia for some woodsy-ness.

But a recap of the past couple days:
I melted. Literally there are parts of me left in puddles all over Dubrovnik. GOD IT'S HOT. Way hotter than Rome. Still we managed to do some pretty heftz atheletic things: walking to and from the old town (we're too cheap to take the bus), walking around the entire length on top of the old city walls (really drives home how much of the city was destroyed during the war), and swimming like fishes (and desperately trying not to be skewered by sea urchins). We've also had some pretty freaking gormet meals cooked up in our wee kitchen. Last night was probably the most extravagant with red wine cooked prawns, whole cooked fish straight from the fish markets, and spicy tuna chili (The chili's mine. See Dad, I CAN cook! :D). All for pretty damn cheap.

The war thing is a bit weird. You can see it on the relentless construction going on in the city to repair the damage and reinvigorate the city. But it blows my mind to think that the people I pass on the streets were alive and here during the war. They have had friends and family directly affected by it and it's marked on their lives forever. I've never been in a place where war has happened so recently. Very heavy, but important to absorb and remember.

Tomorrow the crew breaks up and we scatter on our way up to Zadar. Simone and I are catching a ferry to the luxury island of Hvar. It'll be expensive but I'm looking forward to seeing the sights and sounds of the rich. Should make for some excellent photos. And with luck some rich fellows will invite us onto their yacht for dinner!

Dubrovnik at last

I have been waiting to arrive here for the whole trip!
And I can safely say that it's awesome!

Hurtled my way to Bari and off the train to the ferry terminal. On the way bumped into a bunch of Yanks and an Aussie who were headed to Patras in Greece on their way to the greek islands. (Funny how you can tell New Yorkers instantly). Had a good time with those guys until they left and I went off to buy my passage. Once I had my ticket in hand I ploughed my way onto the boat in search of "deck" passage. Luckily that just means any seat without a number, so a spare spot of carpet is fair game. In the process I met up with Naill, Eimear, and Simone who once we disembarked landed an appartment together for 120 Kuna a night each (not actually that much, about 19 euro). Our place is awesome! It's in a residential neighborhood called Lapad, which is leafy, green, and filled with flowering vines. And it has a kitchen! My god, a real kitchen! Bacon and eggy breakfasts here I come!

We arrived this morning so I haven't seen much of Dubrovnik yet (Simone and I are headed to the Old Town and then the beach later today). But what I have seen is beautiful. I love the vibe here. For instance: we asked the tourist office where the nearest internet cafe is and she said straight down such and such a street is the internet park. So we trundle off looking for some building labelled "Internet Park". But what we found instead was literally a park filled with computers on tables, litered throughout the park under dappled shady trees! SO COOL!

Travel Agents

Italian travel agents can kiss my ass!
After visiting several different agencies in 3 different major Italian cities (Venice, Florence, Rome) NONE of them could help me book a ferry ticket to Dubrovnik, Croatia. And one of the last guys wouldn't even help at all, he just said "No, no ferry tickets" and I said ok, well is there somewhere else I can go to get my ticket and he snorted, SNORTED!!! and said "No!" and ran off to get a coffee. Jerk!

Soooo mad, so so mad! I have steam shooting out of my ears, threatening to scald the girl on the computer next to me. I have flames bursting out of my mouth, melting the monitor. Lightning bolts are sparking from my eyes. Claws are raking the keyboard to shreds. I am MAD, MAD, MAD!

After visiting 5 different agencies today I finally went into one (ironically the same agency as Mr. Jerk, but a different location) and a very apologetic woman explained that her agency wasn't able to process tickets for Durbrovnik, only for Zadar or Split. She suggested that the best course would be to buy it directly from the ferry terminal in Bari and that I should have no trouble getting a ticket that way. Finally some help! Even if it wasn't exactly what I wanted.

So it's fly by the seat of my pants time. I have no ferry booked yet and no hostel booked once I arrive. (All the available rooms online are private, meaning I'd have to buy out all 3 beds in order to stay. Expensive!) This is partly tremendously appealing as it's really what backpacking is all about. But on the other hand I'm totally freaking out as it feels like I'm stepping out into an abyss. Woo! Fun times!

Hot Showers and Clean Laundry

Ahhh... there's nothing quite like a good clean hot shower. Is there anything that can't be solved by a steaming spray of aqua? I think not!

Especially if while squeaky clean you are surrounded by the voluptuous scent of clean laundry. Mmmmm... Clean laundry, how I missed you so! Though it is mildly depressing to think that my entire travel wardrobe (save what I'm wearing of course) can fit into a plastic safeway shopping bag with room to spare. :P

Lair of the Unicorn

So Sherry and I whilst thoroughly enjoying our stay in Siena went for a stroll amidst the winding tall medieval walls. At random we picked a twisting path with a delightful arch and discovered a cute park packed with the most random collection of reject modern art I've ever seen! After farting around a bit, two guys came out from an adjacent house with huge medieval flags and started practicing throwing them in the air and leaping overtop of one another. Sherry and I had stumbled upon two contrada guys practicing for the August 16th Palio! After watching them for awhile (they dropped their flags a lot, keep practicing guys!) we made our escape. On the way out we noticed that all the buildings around the park were covered with the Unicorn contrada crest. We'd discovered the "Lair of the Unicorn" as we came to call it.

I'm farting around Rome these days and have seen a fair few of the sites (Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel are tomorrow. Stupid closed on Sundays... grumble grumble). If it thought it was hot in Siena, I was ignorant and foolish. Rome beats the pants off that temperature. (Not sure how temperatures can have pants, or even what they'd look like if they did, but if they can and do, they're beaten!) Still so awesome to see the Roman forum, the Coloseum, Bernini and Boromini's fountains, and of course St. Peter's Basilica. Beatiful. And plenty of water fountains for thirsty tourists! (If the whole of Vatican City is considered holy ground, does that make the water fountains there holy water? Here's hoping. I need a good blessing on my travels!)

Either on Tuesday or Wednesday I'll be leaving Italy behind for Croatia. Feels very weird to think that I've been here a whole month. And I still can't speak Italian!

Burnt Siena

Bloody hell it's hot here. It seems like the whole city is one giant jiffy pop and we're all gonna explode soon. Medieval cities were not constructed with wind channels in mind!

But besides the temperature Siena is soooo neat. It's days after the Palio but the different contrades (city factions, probably totally spelt that wrong) are still throwing parties. I just love that every district in the city has it's own coat of arms posted on the walls. Even the street lights change colours depending on which district you're in. Our hotel is staying in the swan one (forgot the name sorry), but there are 17 others. I'm trying to get pictures of them. It's a bit like Pokemon, "gotta catch them all!".

Siena is beautiful and low key with TONNES of wine shops and pastry shops. Showcasing specialties of the region of course. Was trying to figure out how to do a wine tour of the Chianti region, but apparently they don't really go for that sort of thing here. At least certainly not for those on a budget!

I have one more day here then Sherry departs for Vancouver and I head off to Rome. God was it hard to find a place to stay. Seems like the whole city is booked up. Still, I managed to find a place not too far from the Vatican. Score!

Land of the Medici

So school finished up on Friday with one last field trip to Pisa and Lucca. Bit bummed about the "leaning" tower. In my opinion it's not leaning nearly enough! It was also covered in scafolding which always ruins the effect.

Lucca was fabulous. A smallish town still enclosed in it's medieval walls and filled with delicious shopping. Most of my classmates went totally wild and filled their bags with all sorts of finds. We also discovered that Eric Clapton was playing a concert that night so a few of us engineered a plan to head back to Lucca later that evening. And after some brief drama involving thefts by the cleaning staff (police had to be called, even the Mayor of the town showed up!) we packed ourselves off in a wee Italian car and trundled off to Lucca. Rem and I decided not to spend the money on the tickets, but instead found ourselves a restaurant near the stage and dined to Eric while we slurped our pasta and guzzled our wine.

Saturday, Allison and I booked it to the train station and headed off to Venice. We met up with Sherri later that evening at the campsite/hostel. I LOVE VENICE!!!! In my humble opinion it's far more romantic that Paris. With music buskers around every curving street, maze like passages, and twisting water ways this city is pure magic. Throw in some amazing buildings and a fetish for 18th century masks and I was sold. Venice thus far is my favorite Italian city.

After that the 3 of us made our way to Florence. Ah Florence, so much to see and so little time. Today I'm determined to see the Duomo, the Accademia, and the Ufizi (probably spelt that wrong) gallery. Also have to figure out how to send a package home because I'll be damned if I have to lug those stupid textbooks around with me to another city. Damn near broke my back coming here!

World Cup-age

So Italy's in the final. Bummer, I was kind of rooting for Germany after Brazil crapped out. Losing to the French, disgraceful!

But on the other hand I'm in Italy when the games are happening so I get to party with the home crowd. And it's neat to see everyone from babies to white haired old grandpas getting into it. There was this one old fella who was running around the town square with the Italian flag as a cape shouting "Italia! Italia! Italia!".

I should be in Venice when the final game goes down. Craziness!

Sun and Lemons

Ok, it's been awhile and it's time for a recap.

Thursday was a weird night for me. Had a bit too much to drink and ended up being taken care of by 14 mothers (my classmates. Thanks guys!). This of course made it a bit difficult to get up a 4am in the morning in order to board our bus for Sorento / Capri. But thanks to gravity I was able to quite literally hurl myself out of bed and down the stairs of the castle. Our bus ended up being not only an hour and half late but also appeared to be the smallest vehicle carrying the name "bus" that I've ever seen. Clown cars have more room than we did.

But we arrived more or less intact and managed to stumble around Pompeii without too much difficulty. Though I do think we set a new record for water consumption. It was BLOODY hot!
After that we were carted off to a lovely hotel with... gasp!... a bath! Oooo loveliness. Capri was beautiful, if a bit too touristy. Still neat though to see all the wealthy Italian homes. Sorento at first seemed to be a sleepy little town. That was until Brazil played France and the whole city become packed with people. However my classmates and I were well practiced in the arts of cramped spaces we handled the situation marvellously. Sorento at night was so much fun!

The Amalfi coast is a rocky craggy plethora of beautiful seaside villages. Similar to the Cinque Terre but much more rugged and tropical. They also have this "minor" obsession with lemons. Lemons, lemons, lemons. Lemon liqueur. Lemon candies. Lemon soap. Lemon candles. Lemon printed fabrics. And just plain lemons. A bit overpowering at times, but still neat to see citrus stuff everywhere.

This week has been like a flashback to first year uni. Studying and studying and studying. Dang! Who'd have thought that I'd actually have to work while at school!

The next couple weeks will probably be a bit slower in terms of updates. And I'm still trying to work out the photos thing. (May have to send them home on CD and get someone to crop and upload for me). I'm headed out to Venice on Saturday. And after Venice is Florence. After Venice is Sienna (sans Palio :( ). After Sienna is Rome. And after that I'm not quite sure. I've got it scribbled in as "Croatia" in my mental timetable. But wheter that means I head to Split first or Dubrovnik I don't know. But either way things could be a little less frequent on the ol blog.

Dad told me about this amazing week long music festival in Obudai (or something like that) just outside of Budapest in Hungary. Soo many of my favourite bands are playing, though unfortunately none of them are playing on the same day. Philistines! Still, even if I can make it to Radiohead on August 12th I'll be happy as a pig in mud. Stay tuned for how it turns out!

Equi Terme

After school yesterday a group of us headed off into the hills to a wee medieval village called Equi Terme. Equi Terme, besides being a GORGEOUS town, is famous for it's natural hot springs, caves, and hiking.

Alas, the hot water springs were closed. (Apparently they only open them when the air matches the water temperature. :P) So a few of the crew went for a dip in the frosty river water instead. Not me though. I'm chicken! But I did get my tootsies wet. That's gotta count for something...

Excuse me... Right now I have Remington breathing over my shoulder and it's VERY distracting. Thanks Rem. So if I mis-type blame him and his wet gargly breathing. Rem, I told you jumping in that ice cold water would be bad, but nooo you had to prove how manly you were.

Anyways, back to Equi Terme. The cave system has carved away the mountain side into these incredible shapes and it was amazing to sit beneath them. Especially wonderful given the icy wind blowing out of the caves. Sooo nice on a boiling hot day.

Today we're off to the Cararra marble mine. I'm going to look like a ghost, call covered in marble dust. So fun!

Milano You-lano

Friday they poured us into a bus at 6am and carted us off to Milan. Which should have been awesome, but was a major bust. Instead of seeing the Duomo and the Last Supper, we saw a woodshop that makes Ikea furniture. Ugh. Being so close to amazing things and not being able to see them was sheer torture!

But my weekend made up for it.
On Sunday two of my classmates and I (Sherri and Colin) hiked the Cinque Terre trail. The whole Cinque Terre trail. In 40 degree heat. Oi. But besides feeling like I might die from sheer exhaustion it was by far one of the most beautiful places I've been on my trip. Sheer cliff faces with small rainbow coloured villages clinging to the rocks like shy children and the most unbelievable un-nameable shade of blue (somewhere between emerald, turquoise, cyan, and cerulian). Not to mention the amazing butterflies that followed us along the entire trail.

We'd been warned that the part between Montorosso and Vernazza was a bit like the Grouse Grind. And that's pretty acurate. Except it's the Grouse Grind made entirely of stairs, with no rest stops, trails that are only 2 feet wide with no railings, and sheer cliff faces down one side. Oh, and doing it at the hottest part of a searing hot day doesn't help much. But still, it was amazing and I definitely recommend it.

We also found this incredible local beach. Populated by only a handful of people. Granted most of them were naked, but hey you take what you can get. Still, the beach was great. It had huge perfectly round and smooth stones that made it look like the whole beach was covered in dinosaur eggs. And they were wonderfully warm after our dip in the water. OMIGOD and what water it was! I could have stayed in there for hours. Sherri and I were extremely reluctant to leave, but being the fine upstanding students that we are we figured it would be horrible if we missed any school. :P

I've managed to suck the photos from my camera onto a computer here. So now I just have to figure out how to get them up on my blog. So stay tuned for a photo dump of the last month.