tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23848794409743081572024-02-19T21:18:14.770+11:00Ogham's Alder TreeF.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-40647490326700233962010-11-22T20:51:00.006+11:002010-11-22T21:02:16.766+11:00Back in the SAR.<span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHvqbYQCurm21677c9qr3x-cpib3RKxNbdjtyXQg-JGnXuGsbwEWXR0LIBgLmQFHpuhsy3_I-VZW1K6VhouuJhAp1B90k1dpJXO0FWlprfE_pT_WlcgxSZMLp-Qzf05468w0niPSekxD/s1600/DSC_0384.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHvqbYQCurm21677c9qr3x-cpib3RKxNbdjtyXQg-JGnXuGsbwEWXR0LIBgLmQFHpuhsy3_I-VZW1K6VhouuJhAp1B90k1dpJXO0FWlprfE_pT_WlcgxSZMLp-Qzf05468w0niPSekxD/s400/DSC_0384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542310545125772866" border="0" /></a></span><style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1;</style><br />It’s early evening and I’m sitting in my new favourite bar in the Mid-Levels area - The Phoenix. The place is small, quiet and most importantly devoid of Internet access. I’ve found being disconnected from the online world has always been a great source of muse. And besides, it’s Happy Hour.<br /><br />I’ve been living in Hong Kong for just over two weeks now, and I thought it was about time I posted my observations on the foreign city that has quickly become my new home.<br /><br />Firstly, for some strange reason, most shops don’t open until around 11am. This has become quite a nuisance for my morning coffee ritual as it means I either need to brew my own at home, or simply wait for lunch. Not that the coffee is overly good here, but it does result in very low alertness levels until after midday. The upside is that you can buy necessities at 9pm…like a dishwasher…in the off chance that your one happens to flood after dinner.<br /><br />Not only this, but everything in Hong Kong is significantly cheaper than back home. Except rent. A bottle of Veuve Clicquot for example, is about half the price it is in Melbourne, whereas renting a two-bedroom apartment here is approximately double the amount you would pay a month for a terraced house in Fitzroy. You do the math. I did, and bought the damn bottle of bubbly to celebrate my new city of residence.<br /><br />Let’s talk about the city itself shall we? First of all, the Chinese have a bizarre obsession with everything new and modern. To them, a one hundred year old building is deemed an inconvenience, as the site could potentially hold an apartment block for a thousand people. To combat this, they dismantle the building, brick by brick and move it to a storage facility until they can find a suitable place to resurrect it. Usually somewhere where it won’t hinder future modern developments.<br /><br />An excellent example of this occurring was in 1982, when the Murray House (previously a barracks) was pulled apart to make way for the impressive Bank of China building. It was finally reassembled nearly 18 years later on the Southern side of the island in Stanley and now houses several tourist-oriented restaurants. Crazy Chinese.<br /><br />On the topic of construction, this place is really one big construction site. Almost every second building is undergoing renovations and the sound of heavy machinery echoes through the narrow streets of busy Central.<br /><br />The most amazing part about all of it is Chinese scaffolding. Instead of erecting the seemingly safe and sturdy metal scaffolding that most Westerners use, death-defying workers scurry about on temporary structures made of bamboo, that sometimes completely cover buildings over 30 floors high. Men oblivious to the meaning of fear (a harness is rarely used) hang meters above the ground, lashing the bamboo together using lengths of twine. They look like monkeys scampering through the trees. It’s a real treat to watch.<br /><br />Speaking of watching (my segue skills are top notch today) a great skill to learn in Hong Kong is how you walk in the streets. Usually I’ll just watch where I am walking; taking care not to trip on a crack in the pavement or step in a puddle of dog piss. Here, you have to watch where everyone else is walking, or you’ll end up in more front-on collisions than foreign tourists on ‘Le Carrousel de l'étoile.’<br /><br />Personally, I prefer not walking anywhere and instead like to find a nice spot overlooking a crowded area (beer in hand) and simply ‘people-watch’ from the comfort of a chair. This city has such an eclectic mix of Chinese, expatriates and other Asian nationalities that just sitting and observing becomes a very interesting pastime. Funnily enough, The Phoenix happens to be one of those excellent ‘people-watching’ places. I think I’ll close my laptop lid and do that right now…F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-5533650202412734902010-11-01T01:31:00.004+11:002010-11-01T02:03:37.858+11:00Turning Chinese.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfaak-cT1cjgJacOWx9gU6ska5do5fYceq8J9Uwmpfm66Eq7fHItuJvOI-RCLH48xHZsJl1FpSkjAvaiO8elDT2NqqGqtyH8mEJthx4zkUupFuPPUVukW5sQQIN4hEctyQOJG7_vxFfrL/s1600/Photo+41.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfaak-cT1cjgJacOWx9gU6ska5do5fYceq8J9Uwmpfm66Eq7fHItuJvOI-RCLH48xHZsJl1FpSkjAvaiO8elDT2NqqGqtyH8mEJthx4zkUupFuPPUVukW5sQQIN4hEctyQOJG7_vxFfrL/s320/Photo+41.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534223382607000114" /></a><br /><br /><br />"Hello again." I say to no-one in particular. "Did you miss me?" <br /><br />Unlikely.<br /><br />Yep, I'm back. And this time I will be documenting the 5 or so months I am about to spend on China's greatest asset - Hong Kong. But let's start the journey in transit...<br /><br />I'm sitting in what appears to be an extremely generic American-style sports bar in the furthest corner of Kuala Lumpur airport. It's all rather dull and depressing waiting for a connecting flight and so far all I have to while away the time is to unsuccessfully justify the merits of professional table tennis (and more importantly why I'm still watching it) and to devour what is apparently meant to be 'chicken 'nuggets' but comes across as more of 'deep fried recycled newspaper.' Delicious.<br /><br />Anyway, as I was saying, I am currently 4 hours into a 6 hour transit from Melbourne to Hong Kong. I'm heading there to work for <a href="http://hk.asia-city.com/">HK Magazine</a> as an editorial intern, and I'm slightly (read: extremely) excited about the prospect of writing professionally for the first time in, well, ever.<br /><br />As always this page will be my creative outlet; giving me a place to reflect on the observations, adventures and experiences that happen to me while living in such an incredible city. I hope what I do share inspires others to do exactly the same. Jóutáu.<br /><br />Fearn.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-9389480224791893142009-10-26T13:45:00.006+11:002009-10-26T18:43:01.323+11:00Ach eye the noo.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoHTz_Req0kojZTcxhkf7lY_0rkWrtfR4k36DYF5ljv6nHFNoVHvsp6Z2NkdYf9SorUvWqYxWDXT7n0nr18QmDxjoK_Xquyb7gREgXYc7pftPWcvE5X1K80yq24H3puyWSBmuxL_c0SRP/s1600-h/DSCN1175.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqoHTz_Req0kojZTcxhkf7lY_0rkWrtfR4k36DYF5ljv6nHFNoVHvsp6Z2NkdYf9SorUvWqYxWDXT7n0nr18QmDxjoK_Xquyb7gREgXYc7pftPWcvE5X1K80yq24H3puyWSBmuxL_c0SRP/s400/DSCN1175.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396792307454890002" border="0" /></a><br />‘It’s shite being Scottish.’ Heard this before? Well you’ve obviously read Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting – a brilliant novel focusing on a group of heroin addicts in Edinburgh during the late ‘80s. Up until now it was the only point of reference I had to Scotland, and a fairly bleak one at that.<br /><br />It came as somewhat of a surprise then when I found myself on an overnight bus headed for Scotland’s capital with only a small backpack for a final three-day fling before heading home to Australia.<br /><br />It’s a long 9-hour trip from London, but the fare is cheap and also saves on the cost of accommodation for a night. As is my luck, I had the misfortune to be seated next to an Indian man who thought it was absolutely necessary to talk on his mobile phone while the rest of the bus tried to sleep. He continued a conversation for the next hour or so and it took every ounce of strength not to stuff the ruddy Nokia into his mouth. Instead I put my headphones on my ears, covered my head in my jacket and prayed that his phone ran out of battery before my iPod did. Luckily for him, I managed to nod off to sleep and soon woke at 8am to find myself freezing cold in the middle of Edinburgh.<br /><br />It really is a charming city, built on the site of an extinct volcano, it has a dark history of war, witch hunts and plenty of whisky. The old part of town has wide cobbled roads all leading off the ‘Royal Mile’ which runs directly through the city from Holyrood Palace all the way to the Edinburgh castle. Surrounding the city is a wall of green hills and rocky outcrops, it gave me a strange feeling of having stepped back in time to the 1800s.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRczf6YzIESlIxTnarRnJPGQ9BB-hspXFrdj-xED0tKUniFXDM6aXs-4DWWRaDhaNfVHDTUePtDxaemBVox23qixRmjKILNrfzAq9H4FgO4qs_o5BVJfARi9du7HMWh2HXS-ipFwbdpJkN/s1600-h/IMG_6908.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRczf6YzIESlIxTnarRnJPGQ9BB-hspXFrdj-xED0tKUniFXDM6aXs-4DWWRaDhaNfVHDTUePtDxaemBVox23qixRmjKILNrfzAq9H4FgO4qs_o5BVJfARi9du7HMWh2HXS-ipFwbdpJkN/s400/IMG_6908.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396794206762933586" border="0" /></a><br />Some interesting first impressions were the realisation that every second shop on the Royal Mile sells tartan <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> (whether authentic or otherwise), taxi cab drivers have sadistic desires to run people over and you can almost bet you’ll bump into a Buck’s/Hen’s party staggering down the street at 3 in the afternoon.<br /><br />Luckily first impressions are occasionally wrong.<br /><br />It was too early to check into our hostel so we thought we’d replenish our energy stores with a hearty Scottish breakfast. We found a small restaurant on the Royal Mile offering a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, mushrooms and haggis for a mere 5 quid. It sounded promising. My travel companion at the time had never heard of Haggis, but I assured her she would enjoy it. The meal came and we devoured it quickly, although I managed to craftily conceal my portion of haggis under my napkin. Once plates were clean my friend turned to me and said ‘Haggis is just like meat pie! What’s it made of?’ I proceeded to inform her of what she had just consumed and needless to say she looked a little green for the rest of the day.<br /><br />Full of food we decided to take a free walking tour of the city to get our bearings. Our tour guide led us past the usual tourist attractions: the Scotch Whisky Heritage Centre, Endinburgh Castle and a seemingly endless row of pubs. Images of the next three days started playing out in my head: dark corners, strong whisky, drunken lullabies.<br /><br />That evening we decided to explore the city some more by taking part in a ghost tour. I was in the mood for getting the pants frightened off me. I’d already downed a couple of drams of Jameson and I was feeling nice and warm in an oversized coat. Our guide was a big giant of man with a grizzly beard (who else to take you on a ghost tour?) and I held hopes of this being a good night. Unfortunately the tour did not have the zing I was looking for. Maybe this is because my idea of a ghost tour involved of us being thrown into the moors ala ‘American Werewolf in Paris’ and having our scary guide tell us bone-chilling tales of murder and poltergeists whilst unknown creatures howled at us from across the marshes. However we did get to explore some graveyards by night albeit with traffic tooting in the background (way to spoil the mood, car.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qOMVHBeKElyOxRYNIC5R5dreoT1F2UVhcSto6RR5edspArbCxlVKFc04RAmXzDkqDBqkXVAHc_DyXfYQpk976We5a6Q7gv3gNoKbze6oUeAMZT-Ijd6eP9TLe_DYaRWaaA23qnt0Y7sX/s1600-h/DSCN1130.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0qOMVHBeKElyOxRYNIC5R5dreoT1F2UVhcSto6RR5edspArbCxlVKFc04RAmXzDkqDBqkXVAHc_DyXfYQpk976We5a6Q7gv3gNoKbze6oUeAMZT-Ijd6eP9TLe_DYaRWaaA23qnt0Y7sX/s400/DSCN1130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396792304586633074" border="0" /></a><br />The following day we decided to hike up Arthur’s seat, which is situated in Hollyrood Park about 10 minutes walk from the centre of Edinburgh. It was a beautiful day and the walk was spectacular. We joined other tourists, locals and dogs as we made our way up the steep crags to the highest point in the area.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDufaqjm7WRzy2SKR5i_UxfPE-0OgOw9UwTKiCrDFg198GeimVujjnmRxvuljwtWzpsQ-Dow5dKCUA1bj2XTIdaNX1Jwu6qlLT5q0rv3DbCbHKgIh8Gni04BXJCD6L5Ufj5-tW98MxL3pO/s1600-h/IMG_6931.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDufaqjm7WRzy2SKR5i_UxfPE-0OgOw9UwTKiCrDFg198GeimVujjnmRxvuljwtWzpsQ-Dow5dKCUA1bj2XTIdaNX1Jwu6qlLT5q0rv3DbCbHKgIh8Gni04BXJCD6L5Ufj5-tW98MxL3pO/s400/IMG_6931.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396792326990723954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BjJhLuJObTn_dxgdp0leL0JYWJkLO1LAAEDJGVfBaxxXQ7k4F_JoDQnbkEoWd7KRyxyDPBZb5yMi6mrrMbWLak7gGwkIU0gEZIr7G-zuXXzJ8c7n8lAlCbdYZGeAx967TpWWYFg8Ed3E/s1600-h/IMG_6926.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BjJhLuJObTn_dxgdp0leL0JYWJkLO1LAAEDJGVfBaxxXQ7k4F_JoDQnbkEoWd7KRyxyDPBZb5yMi6mrrMbWLak7gGwkIU0gEZIr7G-zuXXzJ8c7n8lAlCbdYZGeAx967TpWWYFg8Ed3E/s400/IMG_6926.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396792322157768498" border="0" /></a><br />It took a little over an hour and a half but the view was worth the trek. The view is spectacular and you really get a good idea of the layout of central Edinburgh all the way down to the ports of Leith. The grey buildings are surprisingly far from being an eyesore and if anything I find it an endearing quality of the town.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbukNNoLyDxBaYQ0NkZ8NwGP0fmDKPF3gLERgDt-vRaK9SQcNIMiUqapxLloxWXVcLH8xsQIMJxD8T0dGropJBtA6uFxCKEg_aJXoZEtTZ-90gqd1Zq8ZM08P7S_IT-iYdXQFIBTDH1wTD/s1600-h/IMG_6920.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbukNNoLyDxBaYQ0NkZ8NwGP0fmDKPF3gLERgDt-vRaK9SQcNIMiUqapxLloxWXVcLH8xsQIMJxD8T0dGropJBtA6uFxCKEg_aJXoZEtTZ-90gqd1Zq8ZM08P7S_IT-iYdXQFIBTDH1wTD/s400/IMG_6920.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396792314619911362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3p3Z4nJzAvOrcxFupTOKE_NVABP21TkIHMFpqB_2uwoNzD45-_oYBUd7Mo_3fJxGQ0AwnQi8h1g-ow1RIpdTMe20OqR0fFwSTKxoksGfH-cgjmTXUEgB0CtyyJo5pGRH3XMswSQbEE_Q/s1600-h/IMG_6937.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3p3Z4nJzAvOrcxFupTOKE_NVABP21TkIHMFpqB_2uwoNzD45-_oYBUd7Mo_3fJxGQ0AwnQi8h1g-ow1RIpdTMe20OqR0fFwSTKxoksGfH-cgjmTXUEgB0CtyyJo5pGRH3XMswSQbEE_Q/s400/IMG_6937.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396794214032701714" border="0" /></a><br />For me Edinburgh was only a small sample of what Scotland has to offer. Unfortunately time restrictions meant that I was unable to explore further north to the Scottish Highlands. However I’ve had a taste (not Haggis) for Tartans and Whisky and shall one day return again. Ach Eye!F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-90626257229578941322009-09-28T03:22:00.004+10:002009-09-28T03:36:05.623+10:00Art for Kodak's sake.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QHGq82kRZma5UDDxV9hdRMGpHyK2Z-AEHIaR3oo2nQEObdowXvg_s4dEBGk9iYz4PWsmsW5k2cPjP3ee6dp2FJtuz7WYnML6PL2YDrcH3kxHNK0YNiGcEkKdFdKNg8m9q2jfYw5v6P_F/s1600-h/Mus%C3%A9e_du_louvre_mona_lisa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QHGq82kRZma5UDDxV9hdRMGpHyK2Z-AEHIaR3oo2nQEObdowXvg_s4dEBGk9iYz4PWsmsW5k2cPjP3ee6dp2FJtuz7WYnML6PL2YDrcH3kxHNK0YNiGcEkKdFdKNg8m9q2jfYw5v6P_F/s400/Mus%C3%A9e_du_louvre_mona_lisa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386200604061191666" border="0" /></a><br />You know what really frustrates me? Tourists. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm here as a tourist, and I see my own fair share of the popular sights (I went to Notre Dame twice). What I don't understand is tourists and their obsession with cameras and taking photos of anything even remotely famous – as if by taking this photo they can go home and show everyone how well travelled they are.<br /><br />Take yesterday for example. I'm in Paris at the moment, and thought I would wander down to the Musee d'Orsay for a few quiet hours of perusing the gallery's Impressionist works. I am yet to see a Van Gough in the flesh, and this was the perfect place to spend a casual Saturday afternoon.<br /><br />There was no queue to get into the d'Orsay and even as I moved around the gallery I noticed a distinct lack of large crowds. Where was everybody? As I moved upstairs it suddenly dawned on me that some of the 5th floor rooms were dedicated entirely to Van Gogh pieces.<br /><br />Sure enough as I reached the top floor I heard the distinctive murmur of a room full of people.<br /><br />Now I know Van Gogh had an excellent eye for colour and technique, but there were rooms full of Renoir's, Monet's and Manet's in other parts of the building, why was everyone so obsessed with this one? What made matters worse was I couldn't stand for two seconds admiring the skilfully applied brushstrokes before two or three Leica/Nikon/Canon lenses were shoved over my shoulder and started snapping away. I was appalled as I watched these people move around to almost every painting taking photos; of the canvas, themselves with the canvas and even their significant other with the canvas. Some even posed like models beside the painting. It’s like they didn’t even care about what they were standing next to. It’s a quick snap and then move on to the next one. Do they even know what they are photographing?<br /><br />As I scanned the room I realised that other people were doing the same thing with small point-and-shoots and even video cameras.<br /><br />I was so frustrated that I left the room in haste. As I walked downstairs I thought to myself; shouldn’t art be enjoyed because an individual finds it beautiful or evocative? Have we become so blinded that we only want to see an artwork because it appears on coffee mugs, t-shirts, mouse pads and tea towels? And to make matters worse, it seems that a mental picture is just not enough anymore.<br /><br />I still vividly remember seeing my first Basquiat. I was in Barcelona and it moved me in a way no other painting has managed to achieve yet. I had to sit down in front of it and admire it for a while. It was by no means his best work, but I could not comprehend that he had stood in the same position I was now, Charlie Parker blaring in the background while he contemplated what to do next. <span style="font-style: italic;">That’s</span> what I call an art experience. I will admit I took a photo of it, but it was the only one from the whole exhibition!<br /><br />So to be perfectly honest I’m not totally against people taking Kodak moments of some art works, nor I am I going to tell someone to stop. They are free to do whatever they want, just so long as they spend time admiring it first, taking in the finer details and only saving their cameras for the ones they really take real pleasure in. I fear very soon that art may become so transparent that the magic will be forgotten, and people will take these pieces of work at their face value, rather than being awed by its deeper meaning. It would be an absolute travesty.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-7673349052833758862009-09-19T04:58:00.009+10:002009-09-20T05:00:26.790+10:00Terry's World.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbCt4pzRmggyh4MoGSNOgWG4pY404X7J_vrKqRNWYEZAeCPEvjM7hFcC_OCvsmsQ54dOf6R3XDJxLrK-ewOkiFuicS1wMu_SZb3PKVhkBDvQSXvMhGJxgtffq8AnHLZWWZI7V8075th7U/s1600-h/IMG_6272.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbCt4pzRmggyh4MoGSNOgWG4pY404X7J_vrKqRNWYEZAeCPEvjM7hFcC_OCvsmsQ54dOf6R3XDJxLrK-ewOkiFuicS1wMu_SZb3PKVhkBDvQSXvMhGJxgtffq8AnHLZWWZI7V8075th7U/s400/IMG_6272.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383250382509184354" border="0" /></a><br />It’s just after 9pm on a chilly Thursday evening and I find myself sitting at a square table in a small Bavarian bar down a back street in the heart of Berlin. I feel slightly out of place, due to the unnerving gaze of some of the locals. To the left of me sits Ziggy, a non-English speaking German who enjoys double denim and a cigarette poised constantly in his right hand. To my right is a man who I know slightly more about. His name is Terry Brewer. He dislikes bad grammar and frowns upon people with green hair and rings in their noses. He has taught me more about Germany in two days than any history teacher could achieve in two years.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0ZZGUQAzbql41-p8bbCvPWv1_dkxSHKtWeYiyZ7zuWmuiMzXXZCaHpxfCI8EedaMn4z3QloHnzjBrG4re-M7aEZ2k3ZunDxyskQMemLHgQkor8sLdiT_HZNJMoymJupAh2-wM-67TSN1/s1600-h/Europe+312.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0ZZGUQAzbql41-p8bbCvPWv1_dkxSHKtWeYiyZ7zuWmuiMzXXZCaHpxfCI8EedaMn4z3QloHnzjBrG4re-M7aEZ2k3ZunDxyskQMemLHgQkor8sLdiT_HZNJMoymJupAh2-wM-67TSN1/s400/Europe+312.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382903518378278930" border="0" /></a><br />As we sit chatting over a plate of German sausage and pickles with a side of beer Terry tells me that the last 20 years of his life have all but rolled into one. ‘Where has the time gone?’ he says.<br /><br />Terry is an interesting character to say the least. He is nearly 74, served in the British Naval Intelligence and has been taking people on his famous <a href="http://www.brewersberlintours.com/">Brewer tours</a> of Berlin for over two decades. This means that not only did he see the fall of the Berlin wall, but he’s also seen the gradual rebuilding of neglected infrastructure that has begun to take place over the last 15 odd years. How many tour guides can proudly offer that kind of insight? Probably none, and yet Terry is as humble as anything.<br /><br />‘It’s weird.’ He says. Barely 3 years ago this was empty land – just piles of rubble or crumbling buildings’ he motions at a large block of offices and housing estates. I struggle to comprehend what this place must have looked like until Terry shows me some photos of the vacant blocks at an information point nearby.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaH4ydsagePQsIA2mI7fw4VrnPwf1puK253oxbFR1xbFV2Uhh2sKjDfKBEpEKXDB9OMl7zU33ZMw3oCq6yt1ld49j_1XiUqKv3HOswzcafwG5bdkwPOytAv_1aIxV4ljzDfnI75d8D5Rvn/s1600-h/IMG_6352.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaH4ydsagePQsIA2mI7fw4VrnPwf1puK253oxbFR1xbFV2Uhh2sKjDfKBEpEKXDB9OMl7zU33ZMw3oCq6yt1ld49j_1XiUqKv3HOswzcafwG5bdkwPOytAv_1aIxV4ljzDfnI75d8D5Rvn/s400/IMG_6352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383250406478140450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKAZDmoCM0O-wEZHi1ANMm8dm1WuCnZobgJQzZhB-WElaGaKe3uwH-F6y1lRaM01RUvVsQJQ6CRAJL8B21lAtzTD_88P9oEo5xXi6W4dt_BJgcYvLDsKy3rUkkM5gq9WK_yUjuEoryGc7/s1600-h/IMG_6357.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKAZDmoCM0O-wEZHi1ANMm8dm1WuCnZobgJQzZhB-WElaGaKe3uwH-F6y1lRaM01RUvVsQJQ6CRAJL8B21lAtzTD_88P9oEo5xXi6W4dt_BJgcYvLDsKy3rUkkM5gq9WK_yUjuEoryGc7/s400/IMG_6357.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383251415106990802" border="0" /></a><br />As we walk further around he city it suddenly dawns on me what the people of Berlin have done to this city. They have given new life to an area devastated by war and civil unrest; the Berlin Wall is now an art space, derelict buildings have become studios or live music venues and properties once destroyed by bomb raids are being restored to their original condition. Admittedly this does mean that the whole of Berlin oozes a cold, industrial façade – but this is part of its history. Look beyond these walls though and you find a very complex metropolis. What surprises me the most are the great expanse of glorious parks and gardens. They form islands of green amongst a sea of grey.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJnp8blbiLuy6SOJJ0PrcvqHwW7zpJrnfctE87sKFjWEC0TCgZtyW53ZgH_Txm8A9L6UE4jTApq9x1u2O1wDQJnGnrirFc_3rVvsBGF6oHMcws8uv4fVsDYX56eTKiJhb4rVpP3uEpSDy/s1600-h/IMG_6373.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJnp8blbiLuy6SOJJ0PrcvqHwW7zpJrnfctE87sKFjWEC0TCgZtyW53ZgH_Txm8A9L6UE4jTApq9x1u2O1wDQJnGnrirFc_3rVvsBGF6oHMcws8uv4fVsDYX56eTKiJhb4rVpP3uEpSDy/s400/IMG_6373.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383254919498184034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhForduRIe8Kgohsy9cWI6-pVaghYmiDnisYHFWnAewv2bk1EWEnzC3NccBAn-C-Cty4cpRthqNFGGbKhZC1doyp9NwKFPUuDgW4xKMDH3tHjP7fDI0HWtmxFx07DU6kIGHKJFGhx7raOKu/s1600-h/IMG_6356.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhForduRIe8Kgohsy9cWI6-pVaghYmiDnisYHFWnAewv2bk1EWEnzC3NccBAn-C-Cty4cpRthqNFGGbKhZC1doyp9NwKFPUuDgW4xKMDH3tHjP7fDI0HWtmxFx07DU6kIGHKJFGhx7raOKu/s400/IMG_6356.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383250411098870258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlSO7sabxAZG8C2MdArwWNTqDP_nAIb9WKDeXicoOQdtkKkwpTkyG_RycQIyYmVt59XspMGz8m_GHDXDSsncOqUBRdRX-O3CykoFPulrgTjsx2mr9eNyfViGrTjdScM3k4rha_0SY8GqV/s1600-h/IMG_6393.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlSO7sabxAZG8C2MdArwWNTqDP_nAIb9WKDeXicoOQdtkKkwpTkyG_RycQIyYmVt59XspMGz8m_GHDXDSsncOqUBRdRX-O3CykoFPulrgTjsx2mr9eNyfViGrTjdScM3k4rha_0SY8GqV/s400/IMG_6393.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383251420169710434" border="0" /></a><br />In fact it’s incredibly hard to imagine that just over 20 years ago this city was so divided. It seems so peaceful now. Germans mix with Jews (even in Jewish schools), and members of allied countries are living and working here on their own free will. Remnants of past years are all but left to the pages of history and the glass cases of museums. It’s not that Germans are trying to forget the past, they are just moving on. For nearly a century now there has been no palpable way of life. Now they have a chance to show some pride in their country and their once war-torn capital.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaq60NCM3_G3uV9SSMMB-taPIyf4e4EsgoSHDSu82RtnszrXAeVbxTMhz0w3GCFjYYNb5oRl5XSk1mZGvQmKnOQF2STQD6GRhadaDZt06M3PDPI-aX_SFDnmGf_l3fm71wZYFDgKuTnibA/s1600-h/IMG_6281.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaq60NCM3_G3uV9SSMMB-taPIyf4e4EsgoSHDSu82RtnszrXAeVbxTMhz0w3GCFjYYNb5oRl5XSk1mZGvQmKnOQF2STQD6GRhadaDZt06M3PDPI-aX_SFDnmGf_l3fm71wZYFDgKuTnibA/s400/IMG_6281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383250389213252226" border="0" /></a><br />I must admit, the locals still aren’t overly friendly, but I think this is a result of being more reserved rather than being a display of arrogance. One thing is clear - they’re certainly not French. As a slight consolation, when you do find a chance to talk with one of them you realise that most of the time their English is impeccable. The only German I know is ‘danke,’ ‘nein!’ and a collection of derogatory swear words. I could still have fluid conversations with all the locals, just so long as I slowed my abnormally fast-paced Australian accent to a coherent and understandable speed.<br /><br />A waitress comes to remove our plates. Terry says something to her in German and she lets out a laugh. ‘I told her the service was lousy’ he chuckles as she walks away. I shake my head and smile. He is a constant source of amusement.<br /><br />Terry really is an excellent guide, and I recommend anyone coming to Berlin to partake in one of his many daily tours. He is a wealth of knowledge and explains everything in such detail and with such an enthusiastic demeanour that you can’t help but become fascinated by what he is saying. Occasionally he will repeat himself, but this only adds to the learning process. I am soon infatuated with Berlin and its complicated history. I yearn to know more.<br /><br />‘I know an awful lot about a lot of things, but I don’t pretend to know everything about everything,’ is Terry’s famous mantra. He repeats it constantly and he means it. He does know an extraordinary amount about Berlin, and the rest of the world for that matter. Just be intelligent and don’t ask an ignorant question is my suggestion. You’ll be praised as a result.<br /><br />I take two tours with Terry in the seven days I am here. The second one is the most fulfilling. Our contingent consists of a Jewish-American boy that seemed two loaves short of a basket, Terry and myself. We’re being led on ‘The Third Reich’ tour which takes us through understanding the most evil of Hitler’s plans to praising the resilience of the people who opposed him. Terry seems intent on giving the Jewish-American and myself a hard time. We are constantly tested on our general knowledge. He means no harm though. These tours are a great form of entertainment and at the same time a great way to learn Berlin's history.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbH1BC03DWJ7bfKB9kt4C8L8NjzQEnKEOUQ2yp33McdgU0r0P1kiQN1gS7YR3HEwZ4YdcBvYlfOQLO2JLKXn7JIdTcHzAOKZOgONRmrOWHPkY0dxH3QPG-vuwbrzew296MInl-6f_F1yf/s1600-h/IMG_6398.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbH1BC03DWJ7bfKB9kt4C8L8NjzQEnKEOUQ2yp33McdgU0r0P1kiQN1gS7YR3HEwZ4YdcBvYlfOQLO2JLKXn7JIdTcHzAOKZOgONRmrOWHPkY0dxH3QPG-vuwbrzew296MInl-6f_F1yf/s400/IMG_6398.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383252743804010082" border="0" /></a><br />This expedition is meant to last 4 hours and instead lasts 8. The man can certainly talk. As is customary at the end of the day, Terry invites me to join him for a beer at his favourite bar that he fittingly likes to call ‘his bar.’ I graciously accept. This is where we sit right now.<br /><br />An evening with Terry could easily turn into a free history lesson. But I soon find out this is no time to talk about Berlin. This is Terry’s down time. We watch non-specific European soccer and I listen to him talk fluent German to his many friends that either regularly frequent the bar or work there. He is well know and well liked. He can communicate in 10 languages. He is a legend in this city and it is an honour to know him really.<br /><br />After a little while I turn around and find Terry fast asleep in his chair, a half empty glass of beer slowly bubbling away in front of him. I smile. He has had a long day and a longer week. I pay the bill and make a stealthy exit making sure not to wake him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1K82Edsn0CLmInGloDlJg3hUXUGW5pcVlMoK5_OyVj6NehrQWaNQi600KAs2_Ca6jNbXD1k91TA_vPKMie5P9sALh3z7_avwx3rGhzmkXwLFUVhy6-haZCUv9jty4iqhG2TYUrjJu2SHh/s1600-h/IMG_6307.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1K82Edsn0CLmInGloDlJg3hUXUGW5pcVlMoK5_OyVj6NehrQWaNQi600KAs2_Ca6jNbXD1k91TA_vPKMie5P9sALh3z7_avwx3rGhzmkXwLFUVhy6-haZCUv9jty4iqhG2TYUrjJu2SHh/s400/IMG_6307.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383250397970150354" border="0" /></a><br />Please, if you ever find yourself in Berlin, make sure you find <a href="http://www.brewersberlintours.com/">Terry</a>. I assure you it will not be a disappointing encounter.<br /><br />Fearn.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-29435472498760757762009-09-15T05:14:00.009+10:002009-11-05T11:25:49.663+11:00The fix.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORglsI_2rPuxr7KORHaehqkW_K6drUyqY8y8wMKHiOzBZHQ7fHLIXN_ubmphcrfsOZu3w3i_EpRbDY6HM-EWNK0vHu5Mauw5X7TU2j7v_N_7my1h1nSAixi4bYm4-Qn3ZiDf9c0_odwZf/s1600-h/coffee_beans_map.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORglsI_2rPuxr7KORHaehqkW_K6drUyqY8y8wMKHiOzBZHQ7fHLIXN_ubmphcrfsOZu3w3i_EpRbDY6HM-EWNK0vHu5Mauw5X7TU2j7v_N_7my1h1nSAixi4bYm4-Qn3ZiDf9c0_odwZf/s320/coffee_beans_map.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400409029223959106" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>You know what most places in Europe have that Melbourne doesn't? Terrible coffee. Like what I did there? Seriously, it's a disgrace. Maybe I was drinking my cup of Joe at all the wrong places or maybe the baristas' were having a bad day, but I just couldn't for the life of me find a decent daily grind.<br /><br />Now I'm no coffee connoisseur, but I believe I have the capacity to tell a good cuppa from the next. I tried cappuccino, caffe latte and even espresso in over five countries, but all were horrible - even bordering on undrinkable. I thought the Europeans were renowned for their coffee making abilities! I was wrong. I even tried Starbucks...on both sides of the street.<br /><br />Actually I stand corrected. Today I found my first decent coffee. I was in Berlin, waiting for the Ramones museum to open. I found a homely little cafe called 'Weinerei.' It was a last ditch effort and I put all my chips on the table and bought a double espresso. It was delicious. Perfect temperature with the slightest hint of caramel and chocolate.<br /><br />This doesn't mean my argument is flawed however. One good espresso over an eleven week period of drinking coffee does not equate to good odds.<br /><br />Maybe it's because I'm a snob then. A snob that knows nearly nothing about coffee, just one that has been spoilt by Melbourne's selection of marvelous morning mud.<br /><br />Alliteration aside I make a valid point. Last year Starbucks announced it would be <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/business/starbucks-to-close-61-australian-outlets-20080729-3mkm.html">immediately closing 61 of its stores across Australia</a>. It is an extraordinary number, considering it reduced the overall number of stores to just 23. I even did the research on which stores are still open. Queensland has 8, New South Wales 10 and Victoria a mere 5. This leads me to the conclusion that either Brisbane and Melbourne have great coffee or that people from Sydney have no taste. Either way there was something greater than a 'troubled economy' driving the Green Giant away from Melbourne. I know what it was. Do you?<br /><br />I even found an anonymous quote that stated <span style="font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">'In America you can buy bucket-sized cups of coffee in any flavour you like other than coffee-flavour.</span>' Hilarious. Case closed.<br /><br />I'm sorry, I had to get that off my chest. It's me bothering me for weeks.<br /><br />To end this brief rant I just want to say one thing: Melbourne, as far as I'm concerned, makes the best coffee in the world. Cherish it. Think about it next time you travel abroad. You will long for it dearly.<br /><br />I will happily talk to anyone who feels they can prove me wrong. I think I have a certain friend in New York who may like to discuss this topic further...<br /><br />Until next time, espresso yourself.<br /><br />Fearn.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-25929121141341260382009-09-14T22:53:00.003+10:002009-09-14T23:01:03.015+10:00The streets of Lisbon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqAndrEIP3f2J_nVdsWYQhAp6avZhdj1QMrr9ShSRHAosjPKiLL41RFSC6XHEHalVS0WPDS4-jAaLDpGNJKdITK02GO5HBFPHeI6w15zwvztHdTwbdsafvoMwxkiEiZZM7T7BEyW-pE0u/s1600-h/IMG_6011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqAndrEIP3f2J_nVdsWYQhAp6avZhdj1QMrr9ShSRHAosjPKiLL41RFSC6XHEHalVS0WPDS4-jAaLDpGNJKdITK02GO5HBFPHeI6w15zwvztHdTwbdsafvoMwxkiEiZZM7T7BEyW-pE0u/s400/IMG_6011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381307272601045106" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWwWbOyTz9kumRmqeVLg21t10BMnZ-auGyQRRk0yccm4HPPBpfBTq_34cv8dng2MnDOH87Q3UOd1z3M44Yz1pkDPb6Zdhl5mx5-VVQPB_dsW3kKmEz3JblVY8hK7c6n0PeLb9i8gaNTa9/s1600-h/IMG_5997.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWwWbOyTz9kumRmqeVLg21t10BMnZ-auGyQRRk0yccm4HPPBpfBTq_34cv8dng2MnDOH87Q3UOd1z3M44Yz1pkDPb6Zdhl5mx5-VVQPB_dsW3kKmEz3JblVY8hK7c6n0PeLb9i8gaNTa9/s400/IMG_5997.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381307267072708146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwcvCA6EdNvEw8wUDm7OglYhtqHg-9O9wLUQ28P33EzpCsFJxJL15x2qB6jaO3vtKUIga8prYUtK8e3yqOjs5sH0JlsO2IFsu217y2BKQEMTl34kwbd1IClXI4BUsx2rT9Fxre8fF0RO3/s1600-h/IMG_5985.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwcvCA6EdNvEw8wUDm7OglYhtqHg-9O9wLUQ28P33EzpCsFJxJL15x2qB6jaO3vtKUIga8prYUtK8e3yqOjs5sH0JlsO2IFsu217y2BKQEMTl34kwbd1IClXI4BUsx2rT9Fxre8fF0RO3/s400/IMG_5985.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381307256566546418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgO-xbqhP6SPmC4kE-DejMfgNU90Bsq-lBfNukqPHhgITw83tKDH_bHq_JWj2VXeCkkk905IsOyy9Bepy3XK46ereaerH6ndKbeusu9dP_eOVbhNuWSKk2II4pAX8FPZbYsC6Hg8ZQ7NB/s1600-h/IMG_5979.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgO-xbqhP6SPmC4kE-DejMfgNU90Bsq-lBfNukqPHhgITw83tKDH_bHq_JWj2VXeCkkk905IsOyy9Bepy3XK46ereaerH6ndKbeusu9dP_eOVbhNuWSKk2II4pAX8FPZbYsC6Hg8ZQ7NB/s400/IMG_5979.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381307249117206786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYHNHbl3Z7QyNKtJynE5W2q1s7kETInAf_1TwbeXO7A9c5xWyovMmMSc6eaHpaNVEeJQePn8hwctWliUZ85ycn27_CNntdXZbGoeMDt0s2mVg52W-5Yr4xjyhzUK1IISnoJXspwBAssqd/s1600-h/IMG_5952.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYHNHbl3Z7QyNKtJynE5W2q1s7kETInAf_1TwbeXO7A9c5xWyovMmMSc6eaHpaNVEeJQePn8hwctWliUZ85ycn27_CNntdXZbGoeMDt0s2mVg52W-5Yr4xjyhzUK1IISnoJXspwBAssqd/s400/IMG_5952.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381307241763322082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ppEcq2ZaTElT_fMatJNwSEOl_IqS7KzkhaKOLKim02Mwlk7I3SXCfZgfzyeluX0yyxecGeP2FNmfqtWKDLuHkj5kvd_JjcUuQkchfqZVQfa2bs5yP7j9DdXV4aLYwQnnXpmdTbrUC24G/s1600-h/IMG_5942.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ppEcq2ZaTElT_fMatJNwSEOl_IqS7KzkhaKOLKim02Mwlk7I3SXCfZgfzyeluX0yyxecGeP2FNmfqtWKDLuHkj5kvd_JjcUuQkchfqZVQfa2bs5yP7j9DdXV4aLYwQnnXpmdTbrUC24G/s400/IMG_5942.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381306143763768194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfDCnPcgf7liLj4LghStu8XnQaCIeXE9oJrShZzOPwQV8D99903dWDIl4FCb0ml46gkjGB-UmqD9QjkvGkgoSo-OeY-praxoHWjUTVko3m4PmVBsomxs6bTR6VauQAMXI89tYw2idpOco/s1600-h/IMG_5911.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfDCnPcgf7liLj4LghStu8XnQaCIeXE9oJrShZzOPwQV8D99903dWDIl4FCb0ml46gkjGB-UmqD9QjkvGkgoSo-OeY-praxoHWjUTVko3m4PmVBsomxs6bTR6VauQAMXI89tYw2idpOco/s400/IMG_5911.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381306137845350514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxWJ1Aj_vObWdQUerEO9jxGgRoVAd8AceJK2umgLAB-N8WYSJpoMwustk9m2rIf0s60SdkqcO81gUNqcrYJ2PFWjoABkBSx8GPL_QXTsWum6ilQR4IBCCfarWIUv4lkjE02qm9gj2nP4i/s1600-h/IMG_5892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxWJ1Aj_vObWdQUerEO9jxGgRoVAd8AceJK2umgLAB-N8WYSJpoMwustk9m2rIf0s60SdkqcO81gUNqcrYJ2PFWjoABkBSx8GPL_QXTsWum6ilQR4IBCCfarWIUv4lkjE02qm9gj2nP4i/s400/IMG_5892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381306129420560290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sTHmOxPlfm47TNjJX12IkWnMameQ-2QwV6fM45F9yRMpNpuOGY3AGT3HnLhjv7WovRoo8MZKWrs9yVvJUiYlVp2nb_EJSMDte2x1cQvS1kOWptpjNHpqUJRYKgK7fUapjX54ME5Tbl0N/s1600-h/IMG_5880.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sTHmOxPlfm47TNjJX12IkWnMameQ-2QwV6fM45F9yRMpNpuOGY3AGT3HnLhjv7WovRoo8MZKWrs9yVvJUiYlVp2nb_EJSMDte2x1cQvS1kOWptpjNHpqUJRYKgK7fUapjX54ME5Tbl0N/s400/IMG_5880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381306119219704706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hwL9HA7Gl_nu18PQw5mi6ALaFRIEcn8UNz_SY9nE__Txo_0chPDHX6hNSepeqdz5qvDEZgUtUPqlt3yaMQbxox0DTNCxsg13CecCJSYFT9MmjdoeBBhbUWnwU75F6fKhE_l7y4abyv6F/s1600-h/IMG_5858.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hwL9HA7Gl_nu18PQw5mi6ALaFRIEcn8UNz_SY9nE__Txo_0chPDHX6hNSepeqdz5qvDEZgUtUPqlt3yaMQbxox0DTNCxsg13CecCJSYFT9MmjdoeBBhbUWnwU75F6fKhE_l7y4abyv6F/s400/IMG_5858.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381306111033835938" border="0" /></a>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-41931890295113412692009-09-14T03:32:00.007+10:002009-09-15T17:24:39.236+10:00Barca.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsWq4ndu_uM2nqmSOURX6ya6pz_tIbWKr-RX1uViXR8gA7VBeivf4clwzjNvvdxe2FBES1wGzR2qVqJA9L4inx9vzmxEPdKW9hBPNCEjnxXompLtPxeml5FFjw4ipDUvrsnLqWDsVSVsm/s1600-h/IMG_5462.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsWq4ndu_uM2nqmSOURX6ya6pz_tIbWKr-RX1uViXR8gA7VBeivf4clwzjNvvdxe2FBES1wGzR2qVqJA9L4inx9vzmxEPdKW9hBPNCEjnxXompLtPxeml5FFjw4ipDUvrsnLqWDsVSVsm/s400/IMG_5462.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381049223950065010" border="0" /></a><br />Whoa. Has it really been this long since I posted my last entry? Time sure flies when you are traveling. I have so much to tell now. Where should I start? Does anyone even bother reading this anymore? If you do, settle yourself down as this could take a while.<br /><br />I think I’ll begin where I left off. Barcelona – a city that somehow managed to captivate me into a nine-day-stay and no end of stories to tell.<br /><br />We traveled a long 10 hours to ‘Barca’ from Nice by bus. I love coming to a new city in a new country. It’s like you’re starting completely from scratch. Almost always I know nothing about the city I’m entering and it’s this naiveness that excites me the most. Learning a new language, sampling new foods and anticipating the pleasure of immersing myself in a new culture. Naturally I couldn’t wait.<br /><br />We were staying in a nice hostel, near the top of the infamous ‘La Ramblas’ street known for its pick pockets, prostitutes and performers (sounds like Athens all over again!) Around the corner was a Gaudi designed house and a bit further up the road was his masterpiece La Sagrada Familia. This was sounding good already.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zKklWO7vMFAEMhFf8bsH6Yl4Mn5FoGGpfYwldbA9VmogbNGPL4hm8VWSqx_aYC7UgHNZ8DuOfQ0QsOegO3kUfmA97KoxI4JmYGjZ1qhOqsNx8jwQp-y0T_BYov_sifyoM7xIJ5wEOKv4/s1600-h/IMG_5458.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3zKklWO7vMFAEMhFf8bsH6Yl4Mn5FoGGpfYwldbA9VmogbNGPL4hm8VWSqx_aYC7UgHNZ8DuOfQ0QsOegO3kUfmA97KoxI4JmYGjZ1qhOqsNx8jwQp-y0T_BYov_sifyoM7xIJ5wEOKv4/s400/IMG_5458.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381049217100309266" border="0" /></a><br />Barcelona is one of those cities that reminded me of home. It is stylish, young and bursting with culture. Every corner you turn you find small bars and cafés or people selling artisan goods or food in small stalls. The streets are clean, and the people are friendly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLL-yuzp6TtuKJvM1lnsW8gl0W8uj3JhhVr8NmYiQ_cB3Ehuvf77gVUkPVxs2FFWYrh2kaCdIatelfHmnFWmVBUjk7qd5UgJyZo_qchJ_1LR1bDI1XpS64KwzMUyi6VMy94OkhLBvzuker/s1600-h/IMG_5508.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLL-yuzp6TtuKJvM1lnsW8gl0W8uj3JhhVr8NmYiQ_cB3Ehuvf77gVUkPVxs2FFWYrh2kaCdIatelfHmnFWmVBUjk7qd5UgJyZo_qchJ_1LR1bDI1XpS64KwzMUyi6VMy94OkhLBvzuker/s400/IMG_5508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381299369674103026" border="0" /></a><br />I even adopted my first soccer team. FC Barcelona were playing an exhibition match at the famous Camp Nou during our week here. Somehow we became so immersed in the excitement for this game that we promptly bought tickets, a brand new ‘away’ jersey and a soccer ball. Go Barca.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzfbb-l5K30XMbCYtaGKZ4kTNRcdLIFrXbrgla8rfuyocf7hvtIMIQv3YaNiTACF998agVwbUs48SpJ8U5RsXWfauMXVkDz5Ise-QlCCUX5vxVSnniY7NqL2zvOZE-X1aAcD3cWRPuMHA/s1600-h/IMG_5467.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzfbb-l5K30XMbCYtaGKZ4kTNRcdLIFrXbrgla8rfuyocf7hvtIMIQv3YaNiTACF998agVwbUs48SpJ8U5RsXWfauMXVkDz5Ise-QlCCUX5vxVSnniY7NqL2zvOZE-X1aAcD3cWRPuMHA/s400/IMG_5467.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381049241774682082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGntkcQxYH6cUgsF3exgulH0hrdELwgfr5xb4wd3eBZ8acAQeDCiZLKcSJ_0hsmzpfguscJ8sHKLDnck0dPg-MLzIroVBD-uO_C6_YrcXwmGV3lqXYQI3fJiQZ_S1orEN6DGJ_z74vE0Wk/s1600-h/IMG_5499.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGntkcQxYH6cUgsF3exgulH0hrdELwgfr5xb4wd3eBZ8acAQeDCiZLKcSJ_0hsmzpfguscJ8sHKLDnck0dPg-MLzIroVBD-uO_C6_YrcXwmGV3lqXYQI3fJiQZ_S1orEN6DGJ_z74vE0Wk/s400/IMG_5499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381299360442364562" border="0" /></a><br />I spent the next few days in the El Raval and university districts, which bordered two fantastic galleries. One gallery, the CCCB, was showing two uniquely different exhibitions. One was titled ‘ The Jazz Century’ and explored the rise of Jazz from the beginning of last century until now, using a chronological combination of vinyls, posters and art works including my very first Basquiat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSThc8WC_cMz82RZ_2xBqkwFRhd21r0zEN4z0Zza65pwdHVoTfE0Z9tX9o9OT9D1egm_Brq4yq232bOHURMQWpaZIfPZeUYDH_gj5IEhmSF-B-X0sMLJcTVRogddkhjRMqJgLVVZ9YFVq/s1600-h/IMG_5545.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSThc8WC_cMz82RZ_2xBqkwFRhd21r0zEN4z0Zza65pwdHVoTfE0Z9tX9o9OT9D1egm_Brq4yq232bOHURMQWpaZIfPZeUYDH_gj5IEhmSF-B-X0sMLJcTVRogddkhjRMqJgLVVZ9YFVq/s400/IMG_5545.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381300635016251938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1giM5B7C_fV0IBv74fC6aPo69veP8BiWtsGPZQiPXKeklv5G5M3GDoRJTuqsrW_bwV3PszynfUYGJLQuM89wLEcZ5_3IofMbsSqk8T3OTbKDASjbQDyb8oWxXSkSck1TlkAuVQhvg_7pa/s1600-h/IMG_5526.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1giM5B7C_fV0IBv74fC6aPo69veP8BiWtsGPZQiPXKeklv5G5M3GDoRJTuqsrW_bwV3PszynfUYGJLQuM89wLEcZ5_3IofMbsSqk8T3OTbKDASjbQDyb8oWxXSkSck1TlkAuVQhvg_7pa/s400/IMG_5526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381299394900923362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqxQ-Xdi0pP1_gnL7YVajS6Xj92VV6jBJTf54pryYrNWA7tSHijCexOSrXgVPS-Yaw90w8FjvSXuAaJi6Wh_4B4ELw0UPWO4CuqmxYkCknoH4MAD8L7yhdR-UeOpXZKoIJPujO1pSKWqN/s1600-h/IMG_5537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqxQ-Xdi0pP1_gnL7YVajS6Xj92VV6jBJTf54pryYrNWA7tSHijCexOSrXgVPS-Yaw90w8FjvSXuAaJi6Wh_4B4ELw0UPWO4CuqmxYkCknoH4MAD8L7yhdR-UeOpXZKoIJPujO1pSKWqN/s400/IMG_5537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381300625498415938" border="0" /></a><br />The other exhibition was particularly intriguing as it took a look at ‘Gangs of the 80s’ focusing exclusively on Spanish juvenile delinquency cinema which peaked between 1978 and 1985. The exhibition was a great insight into how Spain as a country has developed over the years, specifically through its youth.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir64PT-3_AfUZNY3bILFYb5u1zbxxxAGf3b8Y-GmHEtVbYzLc4Um4a8zgCoo6dJPcHE_Sb_rOM-_mt7CFZ2yaYCHD1AegS5z6ZvUt7Q5Fwu11aPG-J3eIPPnHWsW7t8ITP0jRcU9HHxuVG/s1600-h/IMG_5514.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir64PT-3_AfUZNY3bILFYb5u1zbxxxAGf3b8Y-GmHEtVbYzLc4Um4a8zgCoo6dJPcHE_Sb_rOM-_mt7CFZ2yaYCHD1AegS5z6ZvUt7Q5Fwu11aPG-J3eIPPnHWsW7t8ITP0jRcU9HHxuVG/s400/IMG_5514.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381299375953794050" border="0" /></a><br />They had even set up one room like an old arcade parlour.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUWB1I44aMnBT5_vTzi-OZijv_SxFY91yuSBYNR5Uatad_HqF1kKmJiFtT3GmCYKIFphDL_Z2cZTdWe-NB8lUkcWrwjYlgKEN7sJ9MqknZCdkFKMIpJKSCb9pG3aSdC_IcrI1r3daa8XR/s1600-h/IMG_5518.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUWB1I44aMnBT5_vTzi-OZijv_SxFY91yuSBYNR5Uatad_HqF1kKmJiFtT3GmCYKIFphDL_Z2cZTdWe-NB8lUkcWrwjYlgKEN7sJ9MqknZCdkFKMIpJKSCb9pG3aSdC_IcrI1r3daa8XR/s400/IMG_5518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381299387084910626" border="0" /></a><br />Funnily enough, it seems that most of Barcelona is of a youthful age. I rarely ever saw anyone older than fifty. This is obviously a reflection of the vibrancy of this city – it has so much energy, it’s no wonder I enjoyed my time here so much.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCtHQOBO8TwmQIKhoGILHJndaGYzxcZnvitxx6eGXmaO3SYIc_KMac_DGtVRA27mLzIASP33fDuYTQp58EuK7Js_jsBredUMdeztRZKIcKgae5ym98b1c8um0N8HDMRQG9CVXxH3SZGha/s1600-h/IMG_5465.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCtHQOBO8TwmQIKhoGILHJndaGYzxcZnvitxx6eGXmaO3SYIc_KMac_DGtVRA27mLzIASP33fDuYTQp58EuK7Js_jsBredUMdeztRZKIcKgae5ym98b1c8um0N8HDMRQG9CVXxH3SZGha/s400/IMG_5465.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381049234864310370" border="0" /></a><br />I especially loved the food. There was one night in particular where I was absolutely ravenous. I went out in search of food to satisfy my hunger. I knew there had to be something, wait, anything. I was looking for the kind of restaurant that you find three corner-turns down a back street, the one you spend 25 minutes searching for and are more than always rewarded for your efforts. It was 10.17pm (a normal time for eating in Spain) and I was ravenous. I came so close to abandoning the search when out of nowhere appeared three large red neon letters – W-O-W-! they spelt. It had to be good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuv5xjuOL-a5GLKZ8yN46UeVkVVeoOhO8SeTJzHk3GpjqLWBYsZN-OG-DHuk9yVUGYhY9r2tmY_J72f-S4FPOPvrAdkLrjDIqzixCgVRl_ZcUFQbLQV3UWSTwdo9N7Doi_MYhDxekwbWc/s1600-h/IMG_5622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuv5xjuOL-a5GLKZ8yN46UeVkVVeoOhO8SeTJzHk3GpjqLWBYsZN-OG-DHuk9yVUGYhY9r2tmY_J72f-S4FPOPvrAdkLrjDIqzixCgVRl_ZcUFQbLQV3UWSTwdo9N7Doi_MYhDxekwbWc/s400/IMG_5622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381301373810440034" border="0" /></a><br />It was a dark street and there were lanterns on the tables. They didn’t speak much English. They mistook my order of a vegetarian burger for a beef one. Yet the beef burger was superb, the beer was delicious and the atmosphere was perfect. I certainly wasn’t complaining.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYp_WXm9tm4OBro2rKbjpXFMwW05BRRVtoJAs_HqDEVyBiUTq4m-wTfppkm01tqVfg1Lwmn_j4QjALavh7xrLvGxoPRsNe-F9l7z7TyjxsIamMXwLfVf6egV6xmDTs-YnpmGtsjetkaQ8/s1600-h/IMG_5599.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYp_WXm9tm4OBro2rKbjpXFMwW05BRRVtoJAs_HqDEVyBiUTq4m-wTfppkm01tqVfg1Lwmn_j4QjALavh7xrLvGxoPRsNe-F9l7z7TyjxsIamMXwLfVf6egV6xmDTs-YnpmGtsjetkaQ8/s400/IMG_5599.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381300638782858786" border="0" /></a><br />Barcelona is definitely a city I will return to. It was so welcoming and friendly and so hard to leave. I take with me a new sports team and a plethora of new ideas and influences. I love this place.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHssjUbhIdDgKBsXMAR3etXgivGdMhuWc9GNXW6KI5TPkxlWIS6skCAKQPVtL-k3qk0n08CmkqjluvcDcMdnbciVFUwVZuFeMbBNdAkJYdyxyNxQzPubo41SebiniG39wUubXyIpON3zl/s1600-h/IMG_5661.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHssjUbhIdDgKBsXMAR3etXgivGdMhuWc9GNXW6KI5TPkxlWIS6skCAKQPVtL-k3qk0n08CmkqjluvcDcMdnbciVFUwVZuFeMbBNdAkJYdyxyNxQzPubo41SebiniG39wUubXyIpON3zl/s400/IMG_5661.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381300651073027106" border="0" /></a>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-6778665012939469312009-08-20T20:32:00.004+10:002009-08-22T23:24:51.676+10:00It's like a boot kicking a ball.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtValWz7z83Ee-vPdQHwOpbcpxT_ZmcI1MlYzu3B0wWeDje1d6dvl5VYZsLaO3zK0-mf4eWUBmXRffFUlWyoEQ60eZLsEGzJheYnpcnrRpNJAbcpzx9F2Ka5ClaKBPCEFIBs1IdXKHdgyM/s1600-h/IMG_4981.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtValWz7z83Ee-vPdQHwOpbcpxT_ZmcI1MlYzu3B0wWeDje1d6dvl5VYZsLaO3zK0-mf4eWUBmXRffFUlWyoEQ60eZLsEGzJheYnpcnrRpNJAbcpzx9F2Ka5ClaKBPCEFIBs1IdXKHdgyM/s400/IMG_4981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372490823598848882" border="0" /></a><br />Yep, it's official. I'm moving to Italy; where fresh food, a sophisticated style and a laid back approach to life is the norm. There are beautiful landscapes, magnificent coastlines and quaint villages. The population are attractive, refined and their cars are the same. Can you offer me a reason not to live here? Best answer receives a Margherita flavoured Gelato.<br /><br />Our Italian adventure started with an all-nighter in Paris in order to avoid paying for an extra nights accommodation and to catch an early morning flight to Venice. Needless to say alcohol was involved and when we arrived at Marco Polo airport we were so wrecked we couldn't even make it through customs. Sleep was inevitable and the floor looked surprisingly comfortable.<br /><br />We woke sometime around lunchtime to the clunking of yet another luggage carousel as it carried a load of tightly glad-wrapped suitcases in front of a hoard of camera-toting tourists. We pulled ourselves up, rubbing sleep from our eyes and stumbled out of the terminal to catch a train into town.<br /><br />Venice is a bizarre and amazing city and consists of 118 islands formed by 177 canals. Nearly 400 bridges connect these islands and the result in a maze of small lanes and cobbled streets which make it nearly impossible to navigate anywhere. A distinct lack of street signs means map reading skills become obsolete and most of the buildings are so similar that nothing can be used as a point of reference anyway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidp6G6N8aI-UUDtFnT7dq10iLu6nxvUImb3RQ8BpHrbRjNNW639pZHjEasfckxUT0X6KZm7iCUG2aKpe3QBhi_e7_tv9mcJXkTNnyxaEb6ZAUdoInzIHE0vbqobaMSuA8jew7w1rcQ7gZd/s1600-h/IMG_5004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidp6G6N8aI-UUDtFnT7dq10iLu6nxvUImb3RQ8BpHrbRjNNW639pZHjEasfckxUT0X6KZm7iCUG2aKpe3QBhi_e7_tv9mcJXkTNnyxaEb6ZAUdoInzIHE0vbqobaMSuA8jew7w1rcQ7gZd/s400/IMG_5004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372490832593792626" border="0" /></a>Despite an obvious lack of direction however we actually thoroughly enjoyed delving into the narrow streets to explore the small boutiques and cafes the Venetians had to offer. The city’s motto should be ‘Get lost, you’ll love it.’<br /><br />Wanting to see the city from a different angle we decided to hire a gondola. It is an extremely expensive venture and after some crafty haggling we finally found a Gondolier who was willing to bargain the price down to somewhere around the cost of buying a small car. You’re only in Venice once though right?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F9i_gdR4_1Txwf4jMM27ci4peAc7FLxKnWjriYYaWET8bRekeb6eJDXUAY8Zrl8e-9VQR2zb53CigPLleLJsSN6Y3neaItoKEcedm-6gU5vFX_q-HvQ3fMEvuImPz32TdnwmK_RQm72a/s1600-h/IMG_5020.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F9i_gdR4_1Txwf4jMM27ci4peAc7FLxKnWjriYYaWET8bRekeb6eJDXUAY8Zrl8e-9VQR2zb53CigPLleLJsSN6Y3neaItoKEcedm-6gU5vFX_q-HvQ3fMEvuImPz32TdnwmK_RQm72a/s400/IMG_5020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372490839103463106" border="0" /></a><br />After the gondola ride we found a small pizza restaurant by one of the canals and enjoyed a vino or two while we waited for the evening to set in. We were saving on another night’s accommodation by catching an overnight train to Rome that turned out to be a big mistake. The compartment was perfect for cooking a pizza and the train made more noise than a dump truck driving through a quarry. Definitely not ideal conditions for sleeping, How many sleepless nights is that now? I’ve lost count.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XZ7_p4gvPiL73wCXdG-eMZj7LFb1GE9AeN1KOE2iWPM4-wD4xwrOOID5SRrKBZ4OfLWn5Ip92KIHakdrMtXf6rOnMZt14hA9dUvCpe50M-SHss8I6W8EhzOJWITJtcWYv-TLzo2ABkod/s1600-h/IMG_5040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XZ7_p4gvPiL73wCXdG-eMZj7LFb1GE9AeN1KOE2iWPM4-wD4xwrOOID5SRrKBZ4OfLWn5Ip92KIHakdrMtXf6rOnMZt14hA9dUvCpe50M-SHss8I6W8EhzOJWITJtcWYv-TLzo2ABkod/s400/IMG_5040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372490851276887234" border="0" /></a><br />Rome was fantastic. It was significantly cleaner and less polluted than Athens and it seemed the Italians had a much better way of displaying their ancient ruins – mainly by not covering it all in scaffolding. We only had a day or two here so a quick whirlwind tour of the Vatican, the Colosseum, Trajan’s Column, Trevi Fountain and the Spanish steps had us sorted. We may have fit a pub-crawl in their somewhere as well. When in Rome.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9xFo2pVtsrJOYVFYNSXYNdx7ehPQV3i8v3iIVBHrT8tZe4zpwOXHuVVugkLcN585gKvnj2FJygMGegveMi9F9u__1v5yKe4FZ-OR37We3UdTFSh325SX0UqRuFMK9JfcIu-Vr9cHUJr9/s1600-h/IMG_5050.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9xFo2pVtsrJOYVFYNSXYNdx7ehPQV3i8v3iIVBHrT8tZe4zpwOXHuVVugkLcN585gKvnj2FJygMGegveMi9F9u__1v5yKe4FZ-OR37We3UdTFSh325SX0UqRuFMK9JfcIu-Vr9cHUJr9/s400/IMG_5050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372490858633895554" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPF-uQN-9MbFuzwHgKaIbiigxJnnT59IRIKEJqS9GBarcT090XulgDtbIK-9WQ-ehCaSnSvVR-4Pfj6Lc7LllgrWfpK44V-ipHSIgvFVQUyJ7DPC4ErXozpP9a2jyWxYzguaDyPso68gi/s1600-h/IMG_5052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPF-uQN-9MbFuzwHgKaIbiigxJnnT59IRIKEJqS9GBarcT090XulgDtbIK-9WQ-ehCaSnSvVR-4Pfj6Lc7LllgrWfpK44V-ipHSIgvFVQUyJ7DPC4ErXozpP9a2jyWxYzguaDyPso68gi/s400/IMG_5052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494345530643026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLypsEDb0FpZuhyphenhyphenJHoM8DFW2kiCH9eBW_-1htrirgd9EfO4KTU9jjTlWYHwcO6XVZE4U2uWlrUiW7gycBsUStqVkK1N3mpbYFc9Az88sbeI8ZJPWa14L0sD63feIkEg6wLx4epyhY1Ne90/s1600-h/IMG_5054.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLypsEDb0FpZuhyphenhyphenJHoM8DFW2kiCH9eBW_-1htrirgd9EfO4KTU9jjTlWYHwcO6XVZE4U2uWlrUiW7gycBsUStqVkK1N3mpbYFc9Az88sbeI8ZJPWa14L0sD63feIkEg6wLx4epyhY1Ne90/s400/IMG_5054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494355391254578" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhhJmgUzbG59H42tYEMtLDZppuOW8nCLTgmfl8AfIVxvZ1ojr3iPW0aLcIYKziPYgtuD9AQ5dpsBeHJJWkOYxUQ_QbXjq7JrKXDYZJS0qPltC6b2TORKuC5BZv_BNH8P3uF2D4mi9OhrE/s1600-h/IMG_5063.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhhJmgUzbG59H42tYEMtLDZppuOW8nCLTgmfl8AfIVxvZ1ojr3iPW0aLcIYKziPYgtuD9AQ5dpsBeHJJWkOYxUQ_QbXjq7JrKXDYZJS0qPltC6b2TORKuC5BZv_BNH8P3uF2D4mi9OhrE/s400/IMG_5063.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494361440573186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdch35WOgEvpf-h7jGiPkl-t08x-lDCJd8H1gGunn6-zpKEK-GvK9DZmkoF6tF33UDps8vcui-rMXMjjMvcw5Yztq2YNhY_J-Kef8V03vwIUxUnD6HQaZNOXORsNUOpu1kSGSof7w0zO7/s1600-h/IMG_5088.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdch35WOgEvpf-h7jGiPkl-t08x-lDCJd8H1gGunn6-zpKEK-GvK9DZmkoF6tF33UDps8vcui-rMXMjjMvcw5Yztq2YNhY_J-Kef8V03vwIUxUnD6HQaZNOXORsNUOpu1kSGSof7w0zO7/s400/IMG_5088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494372653756642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5ItEkuGIrEExrO7BsT66sJco_N7KmzghEfkf_hki5oAx_-vRf7oygRuY2HVqPWx8hB263AHliycvkgoknl3-rRS79uBKWFM2LUMeCc8il_2Ovz-CWISr_Ao8Qwyq-9SmnQCKZ1FUAcs2/s1600-h/IMG_5089.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5ItEkuGIrEExrO7BsT66sJco_N7KmzghEfkf_hki5oAx_-vRf7oygRuY2HVqPWx8hB263AHliycvkgoknl3-rRS79uBKWFM2LUMeCc8il_2Ovz-CWISr_Ao8Qwyq-9SmnQCKZ1FUAcs2/s400/IMG_5089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372494378616195138" border="0" /></a><br />From Rome we were headed down to Sorrento for a three-day tour that included Pompeii, Capri and the Amalfi coast. It was here that my infatuation for this country came into fruition.<br /><br />Pompeii was the first stop before we got to Sorrento, and, for me in particular it was an extremely surreal experience. It might sound a little weird but the better half of my schooling years were spent trying to decipher the complexities of the Latin language. For a restless schoolboy, Latin is very low down the scale of exciting school activities. Luckily for us however, the textbooks we used for the subject contained lots of colourful pictures of Pompeii to distract us from the excentric ramblings of manic Latin teachers (none who shall be named here). Speaking of rambling, the point I am trying to make is that all the images in the books were now seen through the lens of my own camera. I was standing in the famous petrified city that Caecilius once strolled through on his way to the market. Fantastic.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoRWzqC6qBTpk0FqF5JW0xshT68f8maglYMVzeXLQsAPvhTKq9TyBRBupeSX-x1Y0kyPsZ2T-jRNjF6v-dc_93nJdml4G0XP_TI-SUN-PW7VyIZio92JAxhSDRbRS6541MZjq_wptDupj/s1600-h/IMG_5113.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoRWzqC6qBTpk0FqF5JW0xshT68f8maglYMVzeXLQsAPvhTKq9TyBRBupeSX-x1Y0kyPsZ2T-jRNjF6v-dc_93nJdml4G0XP_TI-SUN-PW7VyIZio92JAxhSDRbRS6541MZjq_wptDupj/s400/IMG_5113.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372497745397478610" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQT0HDh7n9vyTo-dvNIG4j2DSNIvbB86LCtHVpdmmZpSf-HuTUIgyBYSXoHflO6WNicNNwqDjATF0eiY3gCla7yFiKbPa1qwz2LrS5zQr1K5NQow86S5cqL50UFoQsNu2W_WPHFtRhcNYo/s1600-h/IMG_5122.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQT0HDh7n9vyTo-dvNIG4j2DSNIvbB86LCtHVpdmmZpSf-HuTUIgyBYSXoHflO6WNicNNwqDjATF0eiY3gCla7yFiKbPa1qwz2LrS5zQr1K5NQow86S5cqL50UFoQsNu2W_WPHFtRhcNYo/s400/IMG_5122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372497761694848978" border="0" /></a><br />I suppose a more suitable phrase would be ‘parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus,’ which translates literally as ‘mountains will be in labour, and a ridiculous mouse will be born.’ Well, in this case the people who built Pompeii were the hard working labourers and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius (the ridiculous mouse) meant they had nothing to show for it. Plausible justification?<br /><br />This was the case of course until the ingenious Italian archaeologist Giuseppe Fiorelli discovered that he could inject plaster into the cavities left by the victim’s bodies in the hardened lava. The result is truly remarkable and means the people of Pompeii have something to show for their toils.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4hhKawma1s1eVpxwG6NzH7SCWsowob5ds0yPxAn0DApO2ZBIJIjSCWgj0lHsKiIo0vIxuERZZ5yOnWKZaXgn644MziIF4On5UfhnjawA6RpZBeWjKpznRMOltB8xKbr3kXY8YquZ01_e/s1600-h/IMG_5121.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4hhKawma1s1eVpxwG6NzH7SCWsowob5ds0yPxAn0DApO2ZBIJIjSCWgj0lHsKiIo0vIxuERZZ5yOnWKZaXgn644MziIF4On5UfhnjawA6RpZBeWjKpznRMOltB8xKbr3kXY8YquZ01_e/s400/IMG_5121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372497755293176098" border="0" /></a><br />From Pompeii we went further south to Sorrento, which was my first real taste of Italy-by-the-sea. We used this town as our base and spent a day on the island of Capri followed by a day driving along the Amalfi coast. The shopping was great here and the food and wine was even more palatable. We stopped at three towns; Positano, Amalfi and Ravello and only photos can describe such scenery.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMg56Xm3vck7dEVqCS_NYfYGL6g56HzGrkfJ-kmsAvNQ8THjaFFOnYEa-CiSwbDtwaxZNEndKppRkZQFCPoVX39LcByxD-fl81ECrJuAr-s8gu05FH36kC6u4oNbqz58UVljbOVgrpZCk/s1600-h/IMG_5176.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMg56Xm3vck7dEVqCS_NYfYGL6g56HzGrkfJ-kmsAvNQ8THjaFFOnYEa-CiSwbDtwaxZNEndKppRkZQFCPoVX39LcByxD-fl81ECrJuAr-s8gu05FH36kC6u4oNbqz58UVljbOVgrpZCk/s400/IMG_5176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372497770616582930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTC6JbYILeV3wrASL-dB3LGOfJKy-opP5Cm8iKhY9pzWDe3HunfJO01yQ9jC085T8w7o2NvBvGE-ytt9mM5eE2bbk7O7Zf6l-ZtQbmccnF8dwvOPgmt8UKzOIpnQhiokHALWHxr6UFpZc0/s1600-h/IMG_5193.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTC6JbYILeV3wrASL-dB3LGOfJKy-opP5Cm8iKhY9pzWDe3HunfJO01yQ9jC085T8w7o2NvBvGE-ytt9mM5eE2bbk7O7Zf6l-ZtQbmccnF8dwvOPgmt8UKzOIpnQhiokHALWHxr6UFpZc0/s400/IMG_5193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372497778025502290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFBZX0nwWGkrEoMaxujbswEshdVlADuM_zcEM6ggpe_GKteMHqeO6Rjy_8lGxwvTc4X5-0i1aN5FmK3mVVCSJFBO9XJODoCyPLy6JioCQfJICUtQ4F6d7mVycsCsZPPNqLczX8gMMO7YY/s1600-h/IMG_5199.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFBZX0nwWGkrEoMaxujbswEshdVlADuM_zcEM6ggpe_GKteMHqeO6Rjy_8lGxwvTc4X5-0i1aN5FmK3mVVCSJFBO9XJODoCyPLy6JioCQfJICUtQ4F6d7mVycsCsZPPNqLczX8gMMO7YY/s400/IMG_5199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372770208749861986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlPhVjzSkpkGR_GwqKKairG5maitQbLlqDK5QG8IBAf_wB8TD60Lxb4Yh2TN-fBEd1MWGXv96YaeaeclHkl8rePcwbQ3t8ITNVy9P5d2mgoDfe4gcMRgtlmIq2FdA1sSBQpPVAtDgssVf/s1600-h/IMG_5222.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDlPhVjzSkpkGR_GwqKKairG5maitQbLlqDK5QG8IBAf_wB8TD60Lxb4Yh2TN-fBEd1MWGXv96YaeaeclHkl8rePcwbQ3t8ITNVy9P5d2mgoDfe4gcMRgtlmIq2FdA1sSBQpPVAtDgssVf/s400/IMG_5222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372770215070161218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3Pk73LOUhkS8PpNuh_62D5kaIuH4nf4-MckbRs3hguHsDSqabuCTsWc-hF4Gy0pmJCY6O2Q1d2mZ1bJm64-t_ut9uk0UCPNrCxlQayxGdZM3qoCNID45Ghn1Nzgpz_jOzDgEn2mCpSLf/s1600-h/IMG_5238.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3Pk73LOUhkS8PpNuh_62D5kaIuH4nf4-MckbRs3hguHsDSqabuCTsWc-hF4Gy0pmJCY6O2Q1d2mZ1bJm64-t_ut9uk0UCPNrCxlQayxGdZM3qoCNID45Ghn1Nzgpz_jOzDgEn2mCpSLf/s400/IMG_5238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372770220414757282" border="0" /></a><br />Florence was our next stop and we soon discovered it was a deceptively small city, but one full of charm and stunning Renaissance architecture. At its heart is the Gothic Duomo and this was easily the most magnificent cathedral we had seen on our whole trip. Unfortunately the queues for ‘Mike’s Dave’ were huge and we were unable to manage waiting in the stifling summer heat for a chance to see him. No love lost though as we’ve managed to see enough prominent art in the last six weeks to last me a lifetime. Well almost.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsIztrPp_yl9I46-B1YBma-0vr6WkPrrPNF1yjTJCbli-GmLvnT1TXQBUOuYfYTyJRi59n9ajy8Om8vKCL1kRFfOq7cE8FXC_RZVt2xnixnfKeJuNtTmcqx4SP_ySPFVKvRIx1SB-D6v9X/s1600-h/IMG_5296.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsIztrPp_yl9I46-B1YBma-0vr6WkPrrPNF1yjTJCbli-GmLvnT1TXQBUOuYfYTyJRi59n9ajy8Om8vKCL1kRFfOq7cE8FXC_RZVt2xnixnfKeJuNtTmcqx4SP_ySPFVKvRIx1SB-D6v9X/s400/IMG_5296.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372770230055054162" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzq7kvbb_nr_FN4pE4MTvhjm7mEoYACeMaE-0Ie0dmpcY6KOfl9vpL-NjQF5PPWiIbpV49S0_VqP5SAxWv6VeB6vCOcBK8pnAKMvsxIpB4BDhy8LDZmwKVjljoLNYiqBOyI1X2Z65jusS/s1600-h/IMG_5298.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzq7kvbb_nr_FN4pE4MTvhjm7mEoYACeMaE-0Ie0dmpcY6KOfl9vpL-NjQF5PPWiIbpV49S0_VqP5SAxWv6VeB6vCOcBK8pnAKMvsxIpB4BDhy8LDZmwKVjljoLNYiqBOyI1X2Z65jusS/s400/IMG_5298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372770237141735298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLW5UQrJ64LTsid2gjUhDMEU652jYQu0QS0cRyokjUBG2BRct5-G2MKgDG_Ndvc8TdbW-7sjYzmiKUNK_b2A5272IQ3EmfAiN9XsNr3lnJVazB7I_zdVBCVIaXD9F-HDSsj9SVkkIVdiv/s1600-h/IMG_5308.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLW5UQrJ64LTsid2gjUhDMEU652jYQu0QS0cRyokjUBG2BRct5-G2MKgDG_Ndvc8TdbW-7sjYzmiKUNK_b2A5272IQ3EmfAiN9XsNr3lnJVazB7I_zdVBCVIaXD9F-HDSsj9SVkkIVdiv/s400/IMG_5308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372774055111293858" border="0" /></a><br />Our last stop in Italy was the Cinque Terre and it was by far the most beautiful. There are five towns stretched over 12km of sheer cliff faces that fall right into a bright blue Mediterranean sea. Each town is a cluster of pastel coloured buildings, all huddled together around small inlets that allow for fishing boats and leisurely swimming. There is a walking trail that connects the five villages and it varies in difficulty from an easy stroll to a rough and physically challenging hike. Why did we try and run it?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1B7uWA_VsaAKmhlC1m92QFb5CgyTcMWuZ7SHc3DoMjvPxRxpP__1ly7vopWvJEQdMPrq0Do421s_msLvUkk7C7M9nBetkNjIsOlTZt8SZ6G1R7qaH1GJu1147Lvk6u2EXTbRQIyby1nZ/s1600-h/IMG_5352.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1B7uWA_VsaAKmhlC1m92QFb5CgyTcMWuZ7SHc3DoMjvPxRxpP__1ly7vopWvJEQdMPrq0Do421s_msLvUkk7C7M9nBetkNjIsOlTZt8SZ6G1R7qaH1GJu1147Lvk6u2EXTbRQIyby1nZ/s400/IMG_5352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372774095288138642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_AxKQ-zc8QoRC9Y7CTCiTcnZDW2M4K6pRjGr_27bgaKNYOj_UfOn31ckyAOBjHExy6hXxCIIKH-keUcT_Cypa_5uwo9CpqQJvS_KX2JRNPqiZSuxe4toZv3ZE5oGenDCn7b4qY2VYqsO/s1600-h/IMG_5380.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_AxKQ-zc8QoRC9Y7CTCiTcnZDW2M4K6pRjGr_27bgaKNYOj_UfOn31ckyAOBjHExy6hXxCIIKH-keUcT_Cypa_5uwo9CpqQJvS_KX2JRNPqiZSuxe4toZv3ZE5oGenDCn7b4qY2VYqsO/s400/IMG_5380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372775858966246834" border="0" /></a><br />The most charming aspect of these towns is they don’t really offer any sort of hotel or hostel to stay in. Instead there are several agencies set up which find you accommodation in people’s houses, spare rooms or on their couches. It is an interesting concept and meant you could be crammed into an apartment with eight other people. No harm in a bit of sharing though. On the topic of sharing we did order a pizza in the town of Riomaggiore that was advertised as being fit for six people. We probably could have eaten two of them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmDVlgQa5TN7e4GgdZ2AmRIT-Q6PduVK3-TaGxO11mEFIwzmvPkaXdTySc_xmqJ5prEzmocaapdYpzzBq9aUf9ymcn6eC7U00MTMoMSbbbAEwMQ1BGndXT8Svgr6dyuJ4ik46hyphenhyphenBLyfH4/s1600-h/IMG_5346.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmDVlgQa5TN7e4GgdZ2AmRIT-Q6PduVK3-TaGxO11mEFIwzmvPkaXdTySc_xmqJ5prEzmocaapdYpzzBq9aUf9ymcn6eC7U00MTMoMSbbbAEwMQ1BGndXT8Svgr6dyuJ4ik46hyphenhyphenBLyfH4/s400/IMG_5346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372774083296865410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwIWgBqBI0eua-4PQ44c6LrS7xloVd1K6C3vJgGX7OqBiamOq0674300AN4qQMVxUsdZ7Dy3_NvHhmjWAUoKXLi00A_-VLyE7_x4BI1XjvRkesRPQq3lyf_6-pUL8pyN4SD0joeC-CnIX/s1600-h/IMG_5340.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwIWgBqBI0eua-4PQ44c6LrS7xloVd1K6C3vJgGX7OqBiamOq0674300AN4qQMVxUsdZ7Dy3_NvHhmjWAUoKXLi00A_-VLyE7_x4BI1XjvRkesRPQq3lyf_6-pUL8pyN4SD0joeC-CnIX/s400/IMG_5340.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372774076658970146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziiznZ0a8o0w7TCIYJQSE-ZBuhyphenhyphend6aeegL6QHYk2U6j586Ga2xaD7ssWcJj2YMOqbZaZKdjXanK4keRcbzp42uubr_OPB_Y97T-xKx3OGfyp0fv0IwzGqZvv38hTUe5v90yI2adbECS9e/s1600-h/IMG_5377.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziiznZ0a8o0w7TCIYJQSE-ZBuhyphenhyphend6aeegL6QHYk2U6j586Ga2xaD7ssWcJj2YMOqbZaZKdjXanK4keRcbzp42uubr_OPB_Y97T-xKx3OGfyp0fv0IwzGqZvv38hTUe5v90yI2adbECS9e/s400/IMG_5377.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372775850356662818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROOhZ4_GF6Y1LmC02vYEPf9VSCd1k1rXtT83x-Af_I4D9dB98Vlbqxnki0F17Ryca9V4xZYq3o9jpQbCE0AWbpi32X4SigCq0I8f8hZVYZCkbOddhpoNOlRXa3pZqxjXsfDF1FxjyNrJQ/s1600-h/IMG_5331.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROOhZ4_GF6Y1LmC02vYEPf9VSCd1k1rXtT83x-Af_I4D9dB98Vlbqxnki0F17Ryca9V4xZYq3o9jpQbCE0AWbpi32X4SigCq0I8f8hZVYZCkbOddhpoNOlRXa3pZqxjXsfDF1FxjyNrJQ/s400/IMG_5331.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372774064334127554" border="0" /></a><br />In all Italy really had a defining effect on me, and it probably shows heavily through my eating habits and change in clothing – Linen shirts anyone? I would love to have spent a bit more time here but the travel train must continue. Maybe one day I can call a little corner of Italy my home.<br /><br />Nice is next followed by Spain.<br /><br />Farewell Bel Paese.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-4919737501557889022009-08-13T04:43:00.005+10:002009-08-13T05:16:52.936+10:00The City of Lights<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhyphenhyphenOpqEWFIvL2uPdK2Jv6Ji71TReoo4uecJCp3b_hMUqSQE_V6gBn9e__jNEVwc4AIqow6OwjCJpanbdvE7OkzjV27aasxtWpoVE40LsCTDgiSAvePVjbCTElncnxbO1HIcpUV4QByUlt/s1600-h/IMG_4910.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhyphenhyphenOpqEWFIvL2uPdK2Jv6Ji71TReoo4uecJCp3b_hMUqSQE_V6gBn9e__jNEVwc4AIqow6OwjCJpanbdvE7OkzjV27aasxtWpoVE40LsCTDgiSAvePVjbCTElncnxbO1HIcpUV4QByUlt/s400/IMG_4910.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369156666976664738" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, the city of revolution, nouveau fashion, and many (many) cultural treasures - Paris.<br /><br />We stayed here for just under a week and squeezed as many galleries, historical sites and cathedrals into the six days as we could. Needless to say I've decided to let my photos do the talking as they're meant to tell a thousand words and I don't want to bore you explaining how many people were crowded around Ms. Lisa or how long we waited to climb the Eiffel Tower.<br /><br />Let me know what you think.<br /><br />Fearn.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjh07JUZ2Q0PkZL31BfnvG97OqkR8GA_UzZ9mlKeDRFAPONyDYT5R8YDzi9dRZF7tn-1RAJtJaXZoRH4lO9_BnyIxNBAue8xhdNWTvs2tG7cm5YGjxXeJtpGTfbM8YefXryA0sYVgvTAb/s1600-h/IMG_4802.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjh07JUZ2Q0PkZL31BfnvG97OqkR8GA_UzZ9mlKeDRFAPONyDYT5R8YDzi9dRZF7tn-1RAJtJaXZoRH4lO9_BnyIxNBAue8xhdNWTvs2tG7cm5YGjxXeJtpGTfbM8YefXryA0sYVgvTAb/s400/IMG_4802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369155628289979250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdO0frDXceRyAQcGkGle2sFUeOtNTYafWbDTvwecxkN7WQ2cI0MIbe99tEIFvf75-CSfxm7RukiAU9jSlOPpi_I1i1VcdfrYKhE_Mp0nrk5ZPMCUcBCJkX-YafZGTL_BhFyxeL4rMfvO_/s1600-h/IMG_4806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdO0frDXceRyAQcGkGle2sFUeOtNTYafWbDTvwecxkN7WQ2cI0MIbe99tEIFvf75-CSfxm7RukiAU9jSlOPpi_I1i1VcdfrYKhE_Mp0nrk5ZPMCUcBCJkX-YafZGTL_BhFyxeL4rMfvO_/s400/IMG_4806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369155634486268898" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9ei2Ups2uIW8AtAnKyHRCcYIaB3iuUuDJ3BAGudhWU0rMrRdZeCevdxwtYJF3U8uNuOS5K4ktQf6klyc2-ECF4wDTNQ6DyqkDTqsBzuvkSgq1qqKblIAXPEGUU5MXQCMUHRpyE7CKrqB/s1600-h/IMG_4814.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9ei2Ups2uIW8AtAnKyHRCcYIaB3iuUuDJ3BAGudhWU0rMrRdZeCevdxwtYJF3U8uNuOS5K4ktQf6klyc2-ECF4wDTNQ6DyqkDTqsBzuvkSgq1qqKblIAXPEGUU5MXQCMUHRpyE7CKrqB/s400/IMG_4814.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369155646078838562" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkAkUHI0GBDDMEAAqBTEugTqB3GZbeby47svmNapUxzjDW78zTYQbFKboSnwHynrluri54T1sVAhV33dPDYHPH7x-_OHBaJrk6YVxEorZoW2aaW6CiCQ9dgN87l8KwE2Rhme82g05PDRX/s1600-h/IMG_4822.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkAkUHI0GBDDMEAAqBTEugTqB3GZbeby47svmNapUxzjDW78zTYQbFKboSnwHynrluri54T1sVAhV33dPDYHPH7x-_OHBaJrk6YVxEorZoW2aaW6CiCQ9dgN87l8KwE2Rhme82g05PDRX/s400/IMG_4822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369155651025237458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjQIz9ufLC_HnDtvz39o3tFdL_p-482YoEFcDvp6F_yk9ALLl8vce8X4eqRnmIrg-a3dV9VB99vxq_g06gSqWvBcAFrIRr5MLfeDpypV3zyygK3DHHxCp196bJHKkaDGJDkHyxKVoD9X6/s1600-h/IMG_4849.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLjQIz9ufLC_HnDtvz39o3tFdL_p-482YoEFcDvp6F_yk9ALLl8vce8X4eqRnmIrg-a3dV9VB99vxq_g06gSqWvBcAFrIRr5MLfeDpypV3zyygK3DHHxCp196bJHKkaDGJDkHyxKVoD9X6/s400/IMG_4849.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369156630910547378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7SXKTFQzCEPkvc501pi2hT0MI7fzfHv5R4reCG3BLPbxMiBsXm56JKaj6zdae90ZB39JeTNkF5aG80xaGFpgj5JH6ISbouWnfPP_KgDWISfrU4D4HJjFskiuwTJ7eH-M-BUT_Efy1EAA/s1600-h/IMG_4851.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7SXKTFQzCEPkvc501pi2hT0MI7fzfHv5R4reCG3BLPbxMiBsXm56JKaj6zdae90ZB39JeTNkF5aG80xaGFpgj5JH6ISbouWnfPP_KgDWISfrU4D4HJjFskiuwTJ7eH-M-BUT_Efy1EAA/s400/IMG_4851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369156649893790658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdC2j-hgYOLXGhsontUuSWgUGjJGquyMbv3jd_-kdizY8VvUgz1HV8TxLBc3DeNsVSq6V9uBIwyeAMHbWVLaJvmsP95lFeY15kQYOAmqqPquhiFLx6JGOxxzcG0r8xqem6ou3lzWltvzx/s1600-h/IMG_4892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdC2j-hgYOLXGhsontUuSWgUGjJGquyMbv3jd_-kdizY8VvUgz1HV8TxLBc3DeNsVSq6V9uBIwyeAMHbWVLaJvmsP95lFeY15kQYOAmqqPquhiFLx6JGOxxzcG0r8xqem6ou3lzWltvzx/s400/IMG_4892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369156655964082610" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X6SdnOpBPRYAB1dAzXC1vnghaNpLo-I6UAtQvnyOkAPnN2yLwb3kQo31JaQ_8OZm8GIjup-sJo3lKPLK6hmtGXlQihwUu3rQYe0Nr4_XKij0-UDvrMrrHH9SsrJNOn10nV-X7K072W2U/s1600-h/IMG_4916.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X6SdnOpBPRYAB1dAzXC1vnghaNpLo-I6UAtQvnyOkAPnN2yLwb3kQo31JaQ_8OZm8GIjup-sJo3lKPLK6hmtGXlQihwUu3rQYe0Nr4_XKij0-UDvrMrrHH9SsrJNOn10nV-X7K072W2U/s400/IMG_4916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369156673588381410" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuw8dl2kki397C494oD_QOjlQoH_BjalNzECQ-lH-O6LTp0FpWEJbeZ2oZlfwvv8QZMFUzW4zniN9yTefAA3BK2TXSTAwtA3R5w2_TNyXtT0fYylmb78_ddAtsAysqTVDPcxbvoMreNsqM/s1600-h/IMG_4936.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuw8dl2kki397C494oD_QOjlQoH_BjalNzECQ-lH-O6LTp0FpWEJbeZ2oZlfwvv8QZMFUzW4zniN9yTefAA3BK2TXSTAwtA3R5w2_TNyXtT0fYylmb78_ddAtsAysqTVDPcxbvoMreNsqM/s400/IMG_4936.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369157729775513522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmkW2LZbh9vyad_cuTKg9rVgA-XJ4w3FgJvE1tQ_8_YPlv_zVoO0IND-qVuHCq941-bKUOlbnXlMH7WTXUEUKpsiArSbORNPVwZypDvC11f8KKxUGzCLEpW6BBureDwHeFoOpH9doNEcB/s1600-h/IMG_4959.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmkW2LZbh9vyad_cuTKg9rVgA-XJ4w3FgJvE1tQ_8_YPlv_zVoO0IND-qVuHCq941-bKUOlbnXlMH7WTXUEUKpsiArSbORNPVwZypDvC11f8KKxUGzCLEpW6BBureDwHeFoOpH9doNEcB/s400/IMG_4959.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369157750682233170" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUJYi7SChay_-jmr_etOF_KOIgB0yQXxBKqgTdVZ7TWYJkbsiM9oe4aS68dx82XJxELG7xK4Qfd33qNrdXKBq1mjw1Rlk8Z_j8BwrXJUti27k42vAIm1GNqtlic2y5IoC7jPrsF0WNXvK/s1600-h/IMG_4960.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUJYi7SChay_-jmr_etOF_KOIgB0yQXxBKqgTdVZ7TWYJkbsiM9oe4aS68dx82XJxELG7xK4Qfd33qNrdXKBq1mjw1Rlk8Z_j8BwrXJUti27k42vAIm1GNqtlic2y5IoC7jPrsF0WNXvK/s400/IMG_4960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369157756163062898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Apologies for these posts being so late, I left my computer charger in Roma and couldn't buy another one until I reached Nice!</span>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-81845655991049895422009-08-13T03:59:00.007+10:002009-08-13T04:42:24.619+10:00Sud France<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeqQbdtOBh4H8imlPnqb_97-d1dzzLgLgpcHoP5PhzFV4_waGLSHiB73F5pipo0Bkcwv2N3FemT9A_dA-bRR9gnTplOB96ao3gMYo_gPpVRwOhNySQ3kLhoXfoTFGiIDtZi_wnPZfcHKD/s1600-h/IMG_4325.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeqQbdtOBh4H8imlPnqb_97-d1dzzLgLgpcHoP5PhzFV4_waGLSHiB73F5pipo0Bkcwv2N3FemT9A_dA-bRR9gnTplOB96ao3gMYo_gPpVRwOhNySQ3kLhoXfoTFGiIDtZi_wnPZfcHKD/s400/IMG_4325.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369142608091682722" border="0" /></a><br />Allez! Allez! Allez! It’s that time of the year again when the infamous Tour de France steams its way through this country faster than you can say baguettes and frog’s legs – and I was lucky enough to be there to see it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhcQEQ0UK4r0LEKZ9h4SXS6uIknSZWVIc7rkn1b2TTmD8IVmtOzuwBIZHYHdY-c8tWbjp5LGRosC9ZqQIrn_Oh9SQPiCuhtpwmnk0-ZBYrkZIx3vouSAzoEaVtLooeGWAEhWs7lIEa1bb/s1600-h/IMG_4536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhcQEQ0UK4r0LEKZ9h4SXS6uIknSZWVIc7rkn1b2TTmD8IVmtOzuwBIZHYHdY-c8tWbjp5LGRosC9ZqQIrn_Oh9SQPiCuhtpwmnk0-ZBYrkZIx3vouSAzoEaVtLooeGWAEhWs7lIEa1bb/s400/IMG_4536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369142618031583074" border="0" /></a><br />We arrived in Paris late on the 21st July after a frantic transit from Ios that included a late ferry, a slow Athens train ride and a Greek taxi driver who thought 180kmph was a suitable speed for driving two passengers to the airport. Luckily we still made our check-in with moments to spare and limbs intact.<br /><br />So here we were, twelve minutes past midnight in a new city and a closed airport, completely perplexed as to what to do next. We had booked a rental car for the next day but had no idea where to sleep. Fortunately we managed to find a cab to take us into the city to the only accommodation that was likely to take us in at this ridiculous hour. Not surprisingly the hotel recommended to us by the taxi driver was located underneath a highway and included a free continental breakfast and someone getting arrested in the foyer. Needless to say it was a sleepless night.<br /><br />On Wednesday morning we caught another taxi to Europcar and had an enjoyable and ‘hassle-free time’ (sic) picking up our car. For those that can’t appreciate my terrible sarcasm, let’s just say that I’ve had more success cleaning my teeth with a cheese grater than getting any co-operation out of a French car-hire salesman. Eventually though, after much restraint, the keys were handed over and we were on our way.<br /><br />We didn’t last long. Sure enough, after 2 minutes of driving we had somehow managed to negotiate our way onto the Arc de Triomph roundabout. We soon realised we had no idea what were doing and hastily decided it would be best to turn off before we caused a seven-car pile up.<br /><br />We pulled the car over in a side street and the scenario unfolded thus:<br /><br />‘What the hell was that!’ my colleague screamed.<br />I removed my nails from the dashboard and took a look at our map of Paris.<br />‘Circle of Death?’ I suggested. Too right it was.<br /><br />After some careful planning and some utter sheer luck we managed to avoid the ruddy roundabout altogether and were finally on our way to Annecy, our first stage of Le Tour. We were safe for now but in no way stress free.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFeJofXzHKxxuehj7FXXYivOrYKOF7TU6LqoapUOJRfY4tHU6gRfN-9hVYcrsoMKLtgryOvYCpR1xy82KuEEDNTO7EEpHbVEtlQ0aPG2WyFoXvlTdKBx5qqCsHbv46Wmzxw5TH77U5Ipbq/s1600-h/IMG_2150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFeJofXzHKxxuehj7FXXYivOrYKOF7TU6LqoapUOJRfY4tHU6gRfN-9hVYcrsoMKLtgryOvYCpR1xy82KuEEDNTO7EEpHbVEtlQ0aPG2WyFoXvlTdKBx5qqCsHbv46Wmzxw5TH77U5Ipbq/s320/IMG_2150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369140186933845250" border="0" /></a><br />Annecy was beautiful. We met up with some friends from Melbourne who let us stay the night in their rented chalet in the French Alps, about 1.5 hours from the race itself. We arrived at night so the next day we were pleasantly surprised with the view.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwPot4ubaID23sCvYtFL_bsNbLYrLvti8Egck8XpMII2QAdGqZWTvGJtHSlI1Pwyj-Bj9WQwHegKispH2ZLt8Y2js-1hfB7C9MH8PObd07CDi6wwR17KRjWqLz5MqrVpdRYkC3m5cIurT/s1600-h/IMG_4261.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 342px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrwPot4ubaID23sCvYtFL_bsNbLYrLvti8Egck8XpMII2QAdGqZWTvGJtHSlI1Pwyj-Bj9WQwHegKispH2ZLt8Y2js-1hfB7C9MH8PObd07CDi6wwR17KRjWqLz5MqrVpdRYkC3m5cIurT/s320/IMG_4261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369140195862253026" border="0" /></a><br />That day we drove back to Annecy to see the cycling greats; Armstrong, Contador, Canchellara and Evans battle it out in the 40+ minutes time trial around Lake Annecy.<br /><br />The Tour itself has such a big impact on the French population, and the streets of every stage we went to were lined with locals – cheering, socialsing and dining on delicious picnics by the roadside. We relished in the electric atmosphere they created.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcjweKpdohKBi-HbRtSd06MAzNnbAso7yJ_RHJeu_hWe5ctvsCnvSq3LZfpdWr11b4iFS0pjGUBAKVny8yiCH-gHaYkYj3MKB0MetTWoGB9VCZGMyW-JI1-zpB569F4ZW59fR0OTh7NOp/s1600-h/IMG_4378.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqcjweKpdohKBi-HbRtSd06MAzNnbAso7yJ_RHJeu_hWe5ctvsCnvSq3LZfpdWr11b4iFS0pjGUBAKVny8yiCH-gHaYkYj3MKB0MetTWoGB9VCZGMyW-JI1-zpB569F4ZW59fR0OTh7NOp/s320/IMG_4378.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369140214846407122" border="0" /></a><br />We followed the Tour for the next three stages; through Bourg de Peage,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAELVBAdTUoh9f2qwbznucEJE9aCkEgMD6SUS-0aP1M57iizYwD5Faw0q8tuhF_KGHAcSyDJKYUqF5ycfp_nS3z-DipbtxqfN52qhher9ru9XQrZNKrg5nB5MsVesNrUPI_ZA98svgczP/s1600-h/IMG_2104.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 368px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAELVBAdTUoh9f2qwbznucEJE9aCkEgMD6SUS-0aP1M57iizYwD5Faw0q8tuhF_KGHAcSyDJKYUqF5ycfp_nS3z-DipbtxqfN52qhher9ru9XQrZNKrg5nB5MsVesNrUPI_ZA98svgczP/s320/IMG_2104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369140225669707250" border="0" /></a><br />up Mount Ventoux<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiwzOY3Kyo5jD0jqVTHHuFslvqMqbYnxl3IcRGaOx8G2yKXo28JmGblsG_hvxpafWiN8LsHDeD9SU9GhyGMbJNOTEZEahguBWbluSbEyuEhk8JBWYUGyxyZMeuMP6jGaztmnN2W6ZFOE_Y/s1600-h/IMG_4540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiwzOY3Kyo5jD0jqVTHHuFslvqMqbYnxl3IcRGaOx8G2yKXo28JmGblsG_hvxpafWiN8LsHDeD9SU9GhyGMbJNOTEZEahguBWbluSbEyuEhk8JBWYUGyxyZMeuMP6jGaztmnN2W6ZFOE_Y/s400/IMG_4540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369142638744480786" border="0" /></a><br />and for the final leg into Paris along the Champs Elysees.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoyQvdGkJZfrkXeFx6v6tQhc_sn_ondfYa3lDuGJNOlg08JYdWDIJgua4zIVqqrNIWzKbKY6u8XPc9IP0HcU0MlWyGNTUJAoXYUqMv1sLCWofPsvv8gw98zcRpxTyTbz1jkLRXH9E8_b-/s1600-h/IMG_4737.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoyQvdGkJZfrkXeFx6v6tQhc_sn_ondfYa3lDuGJNOlg08JYdWDIJgua4zIVqqrNIWzKbKY6u8XPc9IP0HcU0MlWyGNTUJAoXYUqMv1sLCWofPsvv8gw98zcRpxTyTbz1jkLRXH9E8_b-/s400/IMG_4737.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369143753369794386" border="0" /></a><br />It was an experience I will never forget, and having the car at our disposal meant we could be as independent as we liked.<br /><br />One thing you do notice while sharing the roads with Europeans is that for some insane reason they seem determined to set a new land speed record, even at the detriment of other drivers. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t have a particular urge to spend the rest of my holiday dead.<br /><br />This was most worrying during our trip back to Paris from Mt. Ventoux. We left the mountain around 8pm, knowing full well we were about to drive the same distance between Melbourne and Sydney surviving on nothing but coffee, Red Bull and chewing gum.<br /><br />Thankfully, no ill fate came of us and we arrived into Paris at 6am to find a room so uninviting that I’m sure most prisoners would refuse to repose in it. We were too exhausted to complain though and promptly fell into a deep slumber.<br /><br />All up the three days spent on the road were memorable, exciting, and expensive and I will never regret nor forget them.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2pi5jdkO94A&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2pi5jdkO94A&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />Fearn.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-67196760915769459542009-07-29T04:12:00.005+10:002009-07-29T06:00:33.922+10:00Hedonism in Hellas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QY87PfowDAlmgvTo3T839zahVKV-lLvAY0zGxo7QDgsY142Am4qiDyVkS6wuqXWP636rDPxaX8KZu1-YNhgL3CVI60eF3dcVw152bmf2O4xm2G_9cmJX5ZWHOJUO8u8k2CjI-NzSANaL/s1600-h/IMG_3991.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 409px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QY87PfowDAlmgvTo3T839zahVKV-lLvAY0zGxo7QDgsY142Am4qiDyVkS6wuqXWP636rDPxaX8KZu1-YNhgL3CVI60eF3dcVw152bmf2O4xm2G_9cmJX5ZWHOJUO8u8k2CjI-NzSANaL/s400/IMG_3991.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363576754040471938" border="0" /></a><br />Ah Greece, a country seeped in history and tradition, ouzo and coke. A land of Spartans and Spiros and two-euro Gyros. Where Zorba dances while plates are smashed. Too clichéd? Never.<br /><br />Well, I am currently in the last leg of my trip through Greece, and it has been a fascinating, informative and eye-opening experience.<br /><br />We arrived in Athens on the 5th of July, tired from our flight from London and eager to explore a new country. We were booked into a hostel called ‘Easy Access’ which an inebriated travel companion had somehow managed to book the day before. One wrong bus ride and a heavily overpriced cab fare later we found ourselves outside our lodgings, frustrated and slightly short of pocket.<br /><br />First impressions weren’t fantastic. The streets were busy and dirty, a faint smell of urine hung in the air and a number of street workers had taken up position up on the corner. Where the hell were we?<br /><br />We quickly ushered ourselves into the hostel, checked in, and headed straight for the air-conditioned bar to discuss the situation that we seemed to have found ourselves in. Luckily, it was a much warmer reception at the bar than outside, where we were greeted with a complimentary shot of ouzo and a smiling face. Neither of which we had seen yet.<br /><br />As it turned out, we were staying in an area notorious for drug-addicts, pick-pockets and prostitutes, and that we shouldn’t base our judgements of Athens on this area alone. ‘Explore the city, just don’t hang around this part of town’ the bartender told us. How did she know we don’t enjoy being mugged by strumpets high on crack.<br /><br />Now that we were satisfied that the whole of Athens wasn’t potentially about to mug/drug/perform coitus on us, we set out exploring, slowly making our way towards the looming monolith that attracts so many people to this city – the Acropolis.<br /><br />We weren’t to be disappointed; The Acropolis is by far the most fascinating ancient monument in the modern world and makes the rest of Athens seem like a slum in comparison. The Parthenon was the main attraction and only photos can do such an iconic place justice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGgFfNWO6QHy-yCkbwXI0PtOYvla7KAk8TlBLXL09t1pB7yeox4o-M2EbrNoawYdWHifZUYf03zGoVKI32l3gwf3Cw5bLn9_85QZW1nOQlIy64T0C9ztJ3rsr_CfWMlfRr4PnflFb39Xz/s1600-h/IMG_4006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGgFfNWO6QHy-yCkbwXI0PtOYvla7KAk8TlBLXL09t1pB7yeox4o-M2EbrNoawYdWHifZUYf03zGoVKI32l3gwf3Cw5bLn9_85QZW1nOQlIy64T0C9ztJ3rsr_CfWMlfRr4PnflFb39Xz/s400/IMG_4006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363576768478633602" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFaRVTuDOYuKfH3nYKRmnRv0WlcVaejeg3Y48KWAi15GYvqctp3HY2ThpLCFBxYq-QFVriJx44GqQ-6kCY-f6pnl7A9Xuab7BwH_Tj6n7qHCpJSeNuyFNW2gllWwc2gxRvsyRE939iOffG/s1600-h/IMG_4005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 403px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFaRVTuDOYuKfH3nYKRmnRv0WlcVaejeg3Y48KWAi15GYvqctp3HY2ThpLCFBxYq-QFVriJx44GqQ-6kCY-f6pnl7A9Xuab7BwH_Tj6n7qHCpJSeNuyFNW2gllWwc2gxRvsyRE939iOffG/s400/IMG_4005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363576757042749026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One of the only faults I can find with the Acropolis is that the Greeks have somehow completely missed the idea of ancient ‘ruins’ being ruins.’ The whole place is covered in more scaffolding than a Grollo project, and it seemed to me that they were trying to return these monuments to their former state. Well I’m sorry, but I didn’t travel halfway across the world to see freshly carved marble on a mountain. I want the real deal, regardless of how it looks. Luckily there is still enough of the original stone left so that one gets some sense of the shear building brilliance of the ancient Greeks.<br /><br />On our way back to the hostel we stopped off in a small taverna over-looking the city. We bargained the portly restaurant owner into serving us each a three-course meal and some wine for 30€. It was a delicious lunch – olives, dips, crusty bread and chicken kebabs. We finally felt like we were experiencing the real Greece. As we sat in the late afternoon sun, full of food and wine, a joint consensus was made: this is the life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsrOm8x6U4wSGZWvm039HpOSm7a1Hn0xKxKAQUOKFnCrk1B1Ua6SYqsYS0TLv_xEG4M5KJNnVnOmaYJx3XX6qWJajS3A9l3HQ2VIm9CjWtUT8Zod42cPRqLm1uXilJjL3pGoNiI80tuyx/s1600-h/IMG_4016.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 409px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsrOm8x6U4wSGZWvm039HpOSm7a1Hn0xKxKAQUOKFnCrk1B1Ua6SYqsYS0TLv_xEG4M5KJNnVnOmaYJx3XX6qWJajS3A9l3HQ2VIm9CjWtUT8Zod42cPRqLm1uXilJjL3pGoNiI80tuyx/s400/IMG_4016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363576772321466034" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The next day we headed for the island of Corfu. It was an eight-hour overnight bus ride from Athens, and involved taking at least three sleeping pills if you wanted to get anywhere near the land of nod. We arrived in Corfu at 6am on Wednesday morning, only to be welcomed by an over excited host, another shot of ouzo and accommodation that was painted pink. Bright Pink.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOKtcxN_0RMSqocJiNqCF7l7Ev7ExaPv0TzKrTqAQJ3-9BThhCoUhyphenhyphenvxHM1hiAdC6i2_EAaD44OixDfjzUs4eijNGmEpVZbpcrrRj-y9rpFMKPhy_zspEUiNTck1M8SD7ACkdJ_iqPtzT/s1600-h/IMG_4030.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 406px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOKtcxN_0RMSqocJiNqCF7l7Ev7ExaPv0TzKrTqAQJ3-9BThhCoUhyphenhyphenvxHM1hiAdC6i2_EAaD44OixDfjzUs4eijNGmEpVZbpcrrRj-y9rpFMKPhy_zspEUiNTck1M8SD7ACkdJ_iqPtzT/s400/IMG_4030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363598191193537058" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This was the Pink Palace, the summer camp for backpackers and apparent nymphomaniacs. Our host explained the activities that the ‘hostel’ had to offer; these ranged from quad-bike safaris, a 24-hour bar, a booze cruise and even a nude volleyball competition. I’m sorry? You could almost see the collective eyes of every boy in the room light up in excitement. What was thins place?<br /><br />After the introductions had concluded and the ouzo had been forced down we traversed down the hill to the ‘beach bar’ and enjoyed an 8am breakfast on a balcony overlooking the sea, a disoriented donkey and a crazy lady talking to her cats. Greece is hilarious.<br /><br />As I munched on some sloppy scrambled eggs and bread I let my eyes wander to the scenery behind me. The island really is breathtaking – apparently it’s meant to be the second most beautiful island in all of Greece. It really is. Lush mountain-sides, tall Fir trees and olive groves covered every square mile. It was especially spectacular this early in the morning as a slight mist was hanging low over everything, adding a hint of mystery to the place.<br /><br />The following day a few of us hired scooters to explore the island. We set out at a pace, and decided the best idea was to follow the coast, seeing as the only map we had was printed on a beach towel. We let the winding roads lead us through quaint mountain top villages and some incredible scenery. Petrol had cost us a mere 3€ for a full tank and we were relishing in our newfound freedom. Again, only photos can really describe the experience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyil2f3BiZTFTifLW5LhLCmOicp8KObwBMPmXlcRRJtd4W7YfZifWhssiAuL8hKzEhDZMVt-Fh6K07LBLWlPPqVIkhI4qM5WIqpwW1xM3ei4ETvdXTVkEIPr2hbvv0XxuujH2EKVOg9VJ/s1600-h/IMG_4069.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 407px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyil2f3BiZTFTifLW5LhLCmOicp8KObwBMPmXlcRRJtd4W7YfZifWhssiAuL8hKzEhDZMVt-Fh6K07LBLWlPPqVIkhI4qM5WIqpwW1xM3ei4ETvdXTVkEIPr2hbvv0XxuujH2EKVOg9VJ/s400/IMG_4069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363598198700427458" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We ended up staying 5 nights in Corfu, an experience that was draining yet at the same time very entertaining. Our last night was celebrated at a (pink) toga party that involved a lot of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/inbox/readmessage.php?t=1209135146038&f=1&e=0#/photo.php?pid=8166970&op=1&o=global&view=global&subj=611156210&id=508495231">plate smashing and Zorba the Greek</a>. Maybe I wasn’t too far off my description of Greece?<br /><br />Mykonos was the next stage of our Greek island hopping adventure, and was thankfully the shortest as it was also the most expensive. Beers cost upwards of 12€ ($20) and when you are backpacking on a budget of $100 a day, doing anything on this island was near impossible. The best option seemed to be to hide in my sleeping bag until we reached Ios.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QIEEEYHuLJzAZF5pSIOMHhnObmA8ZdNprD9ic3_WmDCIQrWxZtSR52C7a5yN6UPcCCNpRCswoGp2buf62opukF_TcMGVjeafNcPoxKnSLWYEEdAiJHffXmmoUDabFdWZaktfj7hk3tJ6/s1600-h/IMG_4101.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 418px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QIEEEYHuLJzAZF5pSIOMHhnObmA8ZdNprD9ic3_WmDCIQrWxZtSR52C7a5yN6UPcCCNpRCswoGp2buf62opukF_TcMGVjeafNcPoxKnSLWYEEdAiJHffXmmoUDabFdWZaktfj7hk3tJ6/s400/IMG_4101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363598205747848450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thankfully I did drag myself away from the comfort of my gratis bed linen as Mykonos really was a fantastic island full of beautiful beaches, late-night parties and hundreds of egg white houses.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R97GE99q9sYxvFFhvDs4Hp8yfPfGQKCkKyf323_dH9Rqs_fIyeWNlMbj-gxZ6at-Fat1yMPn1AVkPeORqUBqgSRvj1NWRQLjr9-dhMb8iA9w2bTBvdWgqeIniy2sN_K2a5HFM3AG6Uyj/s1600-h/IMG_4119.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 406px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_R97GE99q9sYxvFFhvDs4Hp8yfPfGQKCkKyf323_dH9Rqs_fIyeWNlMbj-gxZ6at-Fat1yMPn1AVkPeORqUBqgSRvj1NWRQLjr9-dhMb8iA9w2bTBvdWgqeIniy2sN_K2a5HFM3AG6Uyj/s400/IMG_4119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363598210408806322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ios was the third and final stop of the island hop and was by far my favourite.<br /><br />We stayed in a hostel called Francesco’s, which is situated on top of a hill and involved negotiating a network of small streets and alleyways to find it. Prices for food and drink were much more affordable here, and 2.50€ beer and 3€ Gyros became the staple of our diet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YCsgAG3U9Ih6kAEVt-9V7zxq4KeM1pCozqLlciprhJCUrmKBSgvEYh2HgTR8xHsMByPIZSkGuCVyyxSUslG2Ko1nTelK6J-erAiwwlb3nwvL2IzttBeysqO7rvHhALVQUyV1DFGk8YAF/s1600-h/IMG_4136.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YCsgAG3U9Ih6kAEVt-9V7zxq4KeM1pCozqLlciprhJCUrmKBSgvEYh2HgTR8xHsMByPIZSkGuCVyyxSUslG2Ko1nTelK6J-erAiwwlb3nwvL2IzttBeysqO7rvHhALVQUyV1DFGk8YAF/s400/IMG_4136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363599608519297650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaNCp-IgkhXHTZqXA4aKPvPDgPKKe_XqrefAOQjkjj5nhmL2H-FYQSJdp4YJi3jWG9Vf0QCxRTUpk0WX_IqC6u-Y3CmXS7nT3F0xsdTViME8Ra4fPZq1stcScMa9nrWZiDoyGC3eQV19Y/s1600-h/IMG_4131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilaNCp-IgkhXHTZqXA4aKPvPDgPKKe_XqrefAOQjkjj5nhmL2H-FYQSJdp4YJi3jWG9Vf0QCxRTUpk0WX_IqC6u-Y3CmXS7nT3F0xsdTViME8Ra4fPZq1stcScMa9nrWZiDoyGC3eQV19Y/s400/IMG_4131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363598216175960306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Q6nXDGETQckaAVtS9MqNoqfNBmDqKtUp5TFB0RmO_3nKsYgXWKTZd4WvlPv_SwRYgRNeI3kknzrioMLO5jDXNFENRbrBrgSPlM9GtBeYgCSS4qLr_rcn6Fpg8MXuWyJaqykiZBdZLU0A/s1600-h/IMG_4206.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Q6nXDGETQckaAVtS9MqNoqfNBmDqKtUp5TFB0RmO_3nKsYgXWKTZd4WvlPv_SwRYgRNeI3kknzrioMLO5jDXNFENRbrBrgSPlM9GtBeYgCSS4qLr_rcn6Fpg8MXuWyJaqykiZBdZLU0A/s400/IMG_4206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363599629786755138" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvEL0V15AHinvj7judQAHKAcSLKOa3C2sF-tQ5L1E7j7pnQoq5mnvOBBYkaSdBClECd7rOa69xhLe7LlaELmJxe9Z5jpHGe2PCTuf6Hf9YnU7yIELULjcL5EJzr6RdU5rWju-nAJkfLUC/s1600-h/IMG_1913.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvEL0V15AHinvj7judQAHKAcSLKOa3C2sF-tQ5L1E7j7pnQoq5mnvOBBYkaSdBClECd7rOa69xhLe7LlaELmJxe9Z5jpHGe2PCTuf6Hf9YnU7yIELULjcL5EJzr6RdU5rWju-nAJkfLUC/s400/IMG_1913.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363576747540725666" border="0" /></a><br />We were lucky enough to meet a few people from Melbourne over here, and by the end of our trip we had a small company of around 20 people. On our last night we all had dinner at a Mexican restaurant called ‘Harmony’ which served the most delicious food with live music as an accompaniment. It was the perfect end to a perfect time in Greece.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_5oreRXS9_GRgBss0W5KWuPj8Txqhwg7Bn1TWaQkIcc6T1Z5DL-Gev-6B7mBHDRwJvtZ0DBjb7D4m34Jf6MJGE8KZvVtDkDiG7vYvu9b1XUoQ2H_ZrBSQ128D3aO8lpVBX6u98PHO90k/s1600-h/IMG_4201.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_5oreRXS9_GRgBss0W5KWuPj8Txqhwg7Bn1TWaQkIcc6T1Z5DL-Gev-6B7mBHDRwJvtZ0DBjb7D4m34Jf6MJGE8KZvVtDkDiG7vYvu9b1XUoQ2H_ZrBSQ128D3aO8lpVBX6u98PHO90k/s400/IMG_4201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363599623807783186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MmT-NExf9ElwwlWk_VIjHTlRb36C75x7KA1wj9eJgpciRCn1_zTYqNqzXVinPHnRwIi8b_ugiNn37EgB3ko-tHF2RlMZYwp3bze5BOLjLXW-ENooFdZXZ5PlqEK5CKbVwsb89MVhEALH/s1600-h/IMG_4205.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-MmT-NExf9ElwwlWk_VIjHTlRb36C75x7KA1wj9eJgpciRCn1_zTYqNqzXVinPHnRwIi8b_ugiNn37EgB3ko-tHF2RlMZYwp3bze5BOLjLXW-ENooFdZXZ5PlqEK5CKbVwsb89MVhEALH/s400/IMG_4205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363599627873954210" border="0" /></a><br />We’re off to France next – vive Le Tour.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-46456042401558209442009-07-07T02:15:00.002+10:002009-07-07T02:27:39.645+10:00Tabloids.Doesn't get much better than this.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9gOUVyGEuooFmovFUhqD2UUWpQYGDJGjC2H9IJSsYKJCLwp0qRNNx5XFN5XjqGsgLQUSpc5RlmjKC4Skx73oA4_TEguVYhdL7mLQqq-zAh3SEcNBomWpRs9miI1iKTUAtFWCoB7bk-nN/s1600-h/IMG_1234.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9gOUVyGEuooFmovFUhqD2UUWpQYGDJGjC2H9IJSsYKJCLwp0qRNNx5XFN5XjqGsgLQUSpc5RlmjKC4Skx73oA4_TEguVYhdL7mLQqq-zAh3SEcNBomWpRs9miI1iKTUAtFWCoB7bk-nN/s400/IMG_1234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355382206549314194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wd-5mFErRUzvW8BY-RDDj2k9-Gyn5BM-QOmMSGAIVdHUEuAE1_M486q3-UbrHvUxlOqkHcKiG64d-ycF64aTm-Nd7N1bvgmziWyekpOKudyUQ7mauRpmnqOZQE6M_FlKEaFSrpQCwEzf/s1600-h/IMG_1426.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wd-5mFErRUzvW8BY-RDDj2k9-Gyn5BM-QOmMSGAIVdHUEuAE1_M486q3-UbrHvUxlOqkHcKiG64d-ycF64aTm-Nd7N1bvgmziWyekpOKudyUQ7mauRpmnqOZQE6M_FlKEaFSrpQCwEzf/s400/IMG_1426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355384544876911490" border="0" /></a>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-21281011693617227532009-07-06T17:22:00.004+10:002009-07-07T00:39:46.872+10:00Tesco's, Tube maps and bar mice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8R-GR2snCosoTOBmJJADzcHHfdHph2Gj1xnOj-feOOwnuq2lFvjKvAOtGGzSSUQeIO8jcp_lr0uVnB7vuD1iZwjfAyRICqvsyZEAzVMOKp_pOC19rn36uMchfTSsG7H6uLnrM9Uw8uq4/s1600-h/IMG_3809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi8R-GR2snCosoTOBmJJADzcHHfdHph2Gj1xnOj-feOOwnuq2lFvjKvAOtGGzSSUQeIO8jcp_lr0uVnB7vuD1iZwjfAyRICqvsyZEAzVMOKp_pOC19rn36uMchfTSsG7H6uLnrM9Uw8uq4/s400/IMG_3809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355246310546032162" border="0" /></a><br />Hello London, I'm finally here. 24 hours, seven and a half in-flight movies and four serves of aeroplane food later - London. The city of red buses and a nice bit of crumpet. Jolly good.<br /><br />So far it has been a satisfying experience. We've been market shopping in Camden, taken a day trip to the beach side town of Brighton and strolled through the leafy streets of Oxford. In fact we've crammed so much in that it feels like we've been here for a month.<br /><br />Currently London is experiencing a <a href="http://blogs.reuters.com/commentaries/2009/07/02/water-down-the-tube-in-london-heatwave/">'heat wave'</a> of such epic proportions that even the Mayor of London is concerned, and in a somewhat paternalistic manner is politely advising all commuters to carry a water bottle with them while they are on the Tube system. Somehow I can't see Connex expressing similar suggestions to its flustered passengers.<br /><br />Now, being Australian, we are obviously used to hot weather and this so called heat wave is really just a warm day for us. However, since London is usually freezing cold, there is almost no need for them to believe in air-conditioning. Funnily enough, we haven't slept a wink all night as our hostel room (shoebox boiler room) is four floors up and is designed for one person and yet contains four smelly male adults.<br /><br />Lack of comfortable sleep aside, we actually are having a great time. London is such an amazing city with so much character and charm. One particular pub near our hostel even has its own resident field mouse called Bob, or maybe it was Bill. We've even had a picnic dinner in an locked garden in the middle of town houses in Notting Hill. Bliss.<br /><br />Our week in London is nearly over, but I hope some of the these photos will help you get an idea of what we've been doing.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71MWusoxVngnf-x8ugvKWH9EF-qNaVMzWSKF-Dg_wdDPlj28q4X9H4B_oaplakcIFk6Atd1-jFP0q_i1Tor8TMkFE3UYtCKYJ_lyuF1pQ6N4lW1QNJcOPtHHLrOrDKmqWEM3OHEijkILL/s1600-h/IMG_3875.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71MWusoxVngnf-x8ugvKWH9EF-qNaVMzWSKF-Dg_wdDPlj28q4X9H4B_oaplakcIFk6Atd1-jFP0q_i1Tor8TMkFE3UYtCKYJ_lyuF1pQ6N4lW1QNJcOPtHHLrOrDKmqWEM3OHEijkILL/s400/IMG_3875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355356222571815762" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq7eUOawAq-jVqjlQ6fmeifKAsDCiFnPjyZEYpUSvZB2QjuMTvRrAYmUEq6QLtlYnIPfZSSnTpR5Hq8iJIEDaiOZszcOw6-q3xP_e7lXaFIgpBkCHvekLzXItRtkz2cL0YufsVxOHxAO-/s1600-h/IMG_3884.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSq7eUOawAq-jVqjlQ6fmeifKAsDCiFnPjyZEYpUSvZB2QjuMTvRrAYmUEq6QLtlYnIPfZSSnTpR5Hq8iJIEDaiOZszcOw6-q3xP_e7lXaFIgpBkCHvekLzXItRtkz2cL0YufsVxOHxAO-/s400/IMG_3884.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355356231780219954" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gTfKErfVOtxkb6Q0arC19bTzflQjtKLylXlvDEtFIbNoiunu7-we__6zxSUuIEGghubpBhh7lf3O8ZiipfCp_bFjJTZs62KT7gBiTHJ4ERJIkMai1jkBHLbi_3XguKkay42C3Uf8017L/s1600-h/IMG_3892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gTfKErfVOtxkb6Q0arC19bTzflQjtKLylXlvDEtFIbNoiunu7-we__6zxSUuIEGghubpBhh7lf3O8ZiipfCp_bFjJTZs62KT7gBiTHJ4ERJIkMai1jkBHLbi_3XguKkay42C3Uf8017L/s400/IMG_3892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355356236784175234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHYBv-fhINvLwnhGBoa0FSh0QrrCFcK9k1Ch08UyMR7TJKTCVrrmJe-KWmy5a3S2Id-IqcA62MgHwdc9r763JO9lM50wNGn1atqERr4ORDseAAG5JfPNF3vzG7rPjfo-oCO-vcR12qVxM/s1600-h/IMG_3903.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHYBv-fhINvLwnhGBoa0FSh0QrrCFcK9k1Ch08UyMR7TJKTCVrrmJe-KWmy5a3S2Id-IqcA62MgHwdc9r763JO9lM50wNGn1atqERr4ORDseAAG5JfPNF3vzG7rPjfo-oCO-vcR12qVxM/s400/IMG_3903.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355356247058790402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCspHLN7kqFLiecqSayf9_MCQSna815QKbbltEuJQi2CH3hU59fx7v4tFB3C_FfImJg-cUkIPnf0Nfi-XPV-jxsotAmN43_4OiBYgWHmzY8hUeVzMDX9YbQFKlWjoqoTEK2naKVtTazM2/s1600-h/IMG_3944.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCspHLN7kqFLiecqSayf9_MCQSna815QKbbltEuJQi2CH3hU59fx7v4tFB3C_FfImJg-cUkIPnf0Nfi-XPV-jxsotAmN43_4OiBYgWHmzY8hUeVzMDX9YbQFKlWjoqoTEK2naKVtTazM2/s400/IMG_3944.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355356253875699586" border="0" /></a><br />Next stop is Greece and I'll try and keep this updated as much as I can.<br /><br />Fearn.F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-14814848969325969162009-05-22T00:28:00.005+10:002009-05-22T01:09:34.573+10:00Get a bicycle. You will not regret it if you live. - Mark Twain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9iKrqtw0bKkiSzqDbX1P374j0iVh4cAkXWcHvJTsAePO-BFIBqmUaQvkilUJKzJeCxbucQ4eHzmuT91m65NBYocfC-X1hBzxKzBbIRzGY_R0tFplfSQKzksYeDERHrmbxvXcz9fcggAn/s1600-h/IMG_3793.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 430px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9iKrqtw0bKkiSzqDbX1P374j0iVh4cAkXWcHvJTsAePO-BFIBqmUaQvkilUJKzJeCxbucQ4eHzmuT91m65NBYocfC-X1hBzxKzBbIRzGY_R0tFplfSQKzksYeDERHrmbxvXcz9fcggAn/s400/IMG_3793.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338288216387909794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWnfR0bJzGdPgsfYhoqJ8xGQPGbF0Vzz5p9EYmhdPv-4l4yP7w4t1X1wNuF-24F2PntD1B5TlLPCgucDXqSa9F9tCT-Lae4O2XE8XlCN8XuxiakeTiqiEeboyfSjkaMM2mtjiFTC2sX9C/s1600-h/IMG_3798.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWnfR0bJzGdPgsfYhoqJ8xGQPGbF0Vzz5p9EYmhdPv-4l4yP7w4t1X1wNuF-24F2PntD1B5TlLPCgucDXqSa9F9tCT-Lae4O2XE8XlCN8XuxiakeTiqiEeboyfSjkaMM2mtjiFTC2sX9C/s400/IMG_3798.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338288225736801970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPfSdaBNA-U1V793hxWSEx1miaIeBdYlHRc1wuzIJ7d47vRCtrU5Y8skyVHlJHCQxv406viUM7w8u4Mj6m-PQjCZXuM8uSWYFd_EWxz6qJXerKujMZ1T4CAUoM3MeX9VqlqfFFngAQMIv/s1600-h/IMG_3795.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPfSdaBNA-U1V793hxWSEx1miaIeBdYlHRc1wuzIJ7d47vRCtrU5Y8skyVHlJHCQxv406viUM7w8u4Mj6m-PQjCZXuM8uSWYFd_EWxz6qJXerKujMZ1T4CAUoM3MeX9VqlqfFFngAQMIv/s400/IMG_3795.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338288220387179010" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8QWj-PVFqQJg2z5i9kS8xM6fHG-q_C55H6811OoTE7zPS_Wa_ME6Zd-D4i26PAeIYXewhyphenhyphenSLLZXJ43BSE5I5fyS_1E1XL15F7-YXHsujmgMZA7BUUzlBGBSdliAVN_Pzj8oxx0oJfBsX/s1600-h/IMG_3794.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 408px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8QWj-PVFqQJg2z5i9kS8xM6fHG-q_C55H6811OoTE7zPS_Wa_ME6Zd-D4i26PAeIYXewhyphenhyphenSLLZXJ43BSE5I5fyS_1E1XL15F7-YXHsujmgMZA7BUUzlBGBSdliAVN_Pzj8oxx0oJfBsX/s400/IMG_3794.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338288228478410978" border="0" /></a>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-88750490665516967512009-04-14T14:38:00.004+10:002009-04-14T16:10:16.302+10:00Lost for Blog.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lovetoadopt.com/images/o%20toy%20block%202.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 308px;" src="http://lovetoadopt.com/images/o%20toy%20block%202.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Today I sat down to write my second blog post ever. How exciting! I must have so much to write about, I've been absent for nearly two weeks! I mean, there must be pages of interesting stuff that has happened to me since then right? Wrong. I couldn't think of one single thing. I was stumped, stupid and metaphorically scuppered. Yet apparently I'm not alone.<br /><br />A quick <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.google.com">Google</a> search somewhere along the line of <span style="font-style: italic;">'Can't fucking think of anything to write on my blog,'</span> revealed that there are <span style="font-style: italic;">thousands </span>of other people like myself, all suffering from the very same frustrating circumstance of what has been coined quite obviously as <a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=blogger%27s+block+definition&btnG=Search">'blogger's block.'</a><br /><br />'Alas!' I cried, I am doomed, like the apparent thousands of others in this blogosphere, to the torturous realm of being unable to recite rhetoric. Lost for words and all that sort of thing.<br /><br />But then, out of the blue came my saving grace, or so I thought.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.plinky.com/">'Plinky,'</a> as it is called, is an internet service which '...makes it easy for you to write inspired content on the web,' according to its informative website definition. Apparently, it asks you a new question everyday to which you give an answer and then post on your blog. 'Hurrah! I am cured!' I yell triumphantly, jumping out of my chair and dancing around the room.<br /><br />And yet, once I had settled myself back down, registered my name and created a 'Plinky' profile, my elation seemed to quickly subside. The first question asked of me by Plinky was: 'What are you afraid of?' Underneath was listed a few examples you could choose from (public speaking, drowning, kids, nuclear war etc.) or you could write your own (Ellen DeGeneres and Pee-Wee Herman immediately sprang to mind.) O.K, seems easy enough. Well now Plinky asked me 'Have you always had this fear? How severe is it?'<br /><br />Well, excuse me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this seem a little childish? I mean, I started this blog to inform people, to exercise my writing skills and to share experiences, not to tell them that I'm afraid of extroverted lesbians and bizarre children's television stars.<br /><br />Feeling slightly let down, I tried a few more questions 'Who would win between a gorilla and a pack of hyenas?' or 'Describe (or show) what you wear when you're trying to impress.' No thanks, I'd rather not show people a photo of me in the nud.<br /><br />'Well what a let down that was,' I grumbled. Sure, I'm well aware that Plinky could be great in helping other people out of a similar situation of 'blogger's block', but for me it just wasn't the saviour I was looking for. Boo.<br /><br />Well I'll try and think of something to write, and If I do I'll be sure to put it right here, with a lovely little picture above it. Informative and interesting it will be. Something will surely come to mind, and I'll be out of this 'Blogger's Block' soon enough eh?F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-75433563300655655412009-04-02T12:28:00.007+11:002009-04-02T12:34:49.594+11:00Never a frown, with Golden Brown.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0A0XfhKFzanyHnmkbpd4nouxqs8JyO1-Fq2eZz42MGr2SPx3RkvCtwyUmh36PT3n4MST3kG0pD8Lo4gHwDI8NZdEo3ShovaWPcgjruR91OkJ8p8ulWHhyphenhyphen7abp_nB0nV3G4ezfQ7KYOKZB/s1600-h/IMG_7246.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0A0XfhKFzanyHnmkbpd4nouxqs8JyO1-Fq2eZz42MGr2SPx3RkvCtwyUmh36PT3n4MST3kG0pD8Lo4gHwDI8NZdEo3ShovaWPcgjruR91OkJ8p8ulWHhyphenhyphen7abp_nB0nV3G4ezfQ7KYOKZB/s400/IMG_7246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319901034968001890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_E8Bmw9W2icNhvEBA9Z2ypTU1qVPVKhAvdnwuZ8Pm8HVKWqEBn58Ck0K7-EvSD_93FfcJSHyqwEdIgMhBCVGOZULOpkHSabMZixGR8Fxw6t2EJjeV0mmaT2T9tF_QY6G0gGc6HdnDEKhw/s1600-h/IMG_7157.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_E8Bmw9W2icNhvEBA9Z2ypTU1qVPVKhAvdnwuZ8Pm8HVKWqEBn58Ck0K7-EvSD_93FfcJSHyqwEdIgMhBCVGOZULOpkHSabMZixGR8Fxw6t2EJjeV0mmaT2T9tF_QY6G0gGc6HdnDEKhw/s400/IMG_7157.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319900773828529586" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPu3UcSOhFfMe0gtJYutvz_3ZM7_heas3rTfQEjMlxEjHecXKrtUQJRPgCr-9IIsyBcYcOyTwP-mlEErZJuQlsSkPQ9B7tqvntMnBCtiYDHhJDOOx-bt8GP0Vk4zEY-jIPIvPMGzUjfqbw/s1600-h/IMG_7126.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPu3UcSOhFfMe0gtJYutvz_3ZM7_heas3rTfQEjMlxEjHecXKrtUQJRPgCr-9IIsyBcYcOyTwP-mlEErZJuQlsSkPQ9B7tqvntMnBCtiYDHhJDOOx-bt8GP0Vk4zEY-jIPIvPMGzUjfqbw/s400/IMG_7126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319900568249540850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6RSZtoupYn3RMz7VYXTGQjBL42AlEhnWtEbAwke5u8c-wK05_3yUvQBEOkvxhmoJfnwG286E-Bhnck2xT_09nB0CagEr9G1zElZhEZQ6BOQ1f0YfB-izH8e1YqOJLkYopQM2ky1wAq2g/s1600-h/IMG_7050.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6RSZtoupYn3RMz7VYXTGQjBL42AlEhnWtEbAwke5u8c-wK05_3yUvQBEOkvxhmoJfnwG286E-Bhnck2xT_09nB0CagEr9G1zElZhEZQ6BOQ1f0YfB-izH8e1YqOJLkYopQM2ky1wAq2g/s400/IMG_7050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319900180785775250" border="0" /></a>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2384879440974308157.post-46735694012390916092009-04-01T17:21:00.004+11:002009-04-01T18:33:45.316+11:00OF things to come....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTL6OwXZNSA23-oaU4sw-kT28G77GsZso71jhAwbFoJ4S-0gAkZnvJatik-2fRj2Vy8M1KPXUyuLNPBOaBlC6n91UYFAnPnXcPbWcqTIzdKXARF3sn9eN7hGbdr4rW8v23e5AwpBZpoa/s1600-h/IMG_3034.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yTL6OwXZNSA23-oaU4sw-kT28G77GsZso71jhAwbFoJ4S-0gAkZnvJatik-2fRj2Vy8M1KPXUyuLNPBOaBlC6n91UYFAnPnXcPbWcqTIzdKXARF3sn9eN7hGbdr4rW8v23e5AwpBZpoa/s320/IMG_3034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319609262549097122" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">And so, as yet another seed is planted in these endless fields of Blog, the Alder Tree sprouts its first roots, and a journey begins. It will be an expedition not only for the readers, but for myself as well.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">As a long time reader and a first time blogger, Ogham’s Alder Tree will be a source of everything I find appealing: from words to ideas, photos to videos and music to art. Its branches will not only yield the fruits of my experiences, but the knowledge that I gain along the way. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />So why read OAT? I hear you cry. Well, read on my friends. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />As the Tree grows and the branches reach out for something new, I hope to take readers through festivals, across bridges and around the globe. Everything from words, phrases, numbers, symbols, sights and sounds will be documented and used for the benefit of others. Let us share the information we gather, because after all, you reap what you sow.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Fearn.</span>F.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10237304417365285992noreply@blogger.com1