Tim's Overseas Posts

2006-06-28T21:51:00.000+10:00

Mark did come in and steal a breakfast in the morning, and we were joined by Candace too. The three of us agreed to head out to see the palace at Versailles. First though, Mark and I have to go and move our car. We find a parking house a reasonable distance from the hostel, drop the car off and forget it.
The train ride to Versailles is about half an hour long, but it takes you to just a couple of blocks from the palace.

Versailles is gorgeous. Even from a distance the first view of it is impressive. Entry isn’t too expensive, and you get free audio guides to take you through each of the rooms. The guides talk about the grandeur of the palace, the meaning behind art works and tells day-in-the-life-of stories about the Louis’ and Ladies who lived there. I particularly enjoyed the Royal Chapel, the Herculean Ceiling, the Hall of Mirrors (the signing of the peace treaty ending World War I was signed here!) and the art work in general. What the audio guides don’t talk too much about is the means for the opulence of the kings and the stories behind why the people revolted, though it doesn’t take a Bachelor of Arts to look around and connect the dots for yourself.
The gardens that start at the rear of the main palace are simply huge. They span as far as you can see from the balcony of the palace (which is on a hill) and there are a couple “small” holiday palaces (seriously!) and a Queen’s retreat house/palace made for Marie-Antoinette.
Even around the gardens there are more beautiful works of art. Most of them were to do with mythological deities and I wish I could have heard the stories behind them all.
We left before we got to see too much of the gardens, or hire a boat to paddle around in, and we caught the train back into Paris to kick off an evening bike tour.

A bike tour is a great way to see Paris. I attested to this last year when I took the daytime tour, and it’s just as good, if not better, by night.
If nothing else, there are many beautiful things to see in Paris. The day and night tours don’t cover much of the same ground so you do get to see a decent spread. And on top of that you get to meet decent people as well. We met sisters from Texas, a family from Atlanta, a Finish bloke called “Per” who was living in and offered us accommodation in Florence, and a few Aussies whose accents were refreshingly welcome.
The evening bike tour (with Fat Tire – yay for a free plug) includes a boat cruise along the Seine, with lots of free wine. This, dear blog, is a marvellous way to enjoy Paris. Along parts of our ride we’d seen Parisians decked out along the roadside, or along a certain bridge, with food galore, more than enough wine, and a free and happy spirit. They sit and sing, talk and laugh and the atmosphere is great. It was great for us then to jump on a boat, sample the wine and enjoy the company of people we’d just met. Or had spent the day with and were coming to know, as was the case with Candace and I. We got close, and were able to appreciate the scenery (there are two Statues of Liberty you know) in the company of each other if none other.
Everyone finished their drinks and took their photos and we disembarked to ride (yes, free alcohol and ride yourself back please) to our destination.

The leader of the tour (a certain Nick from America) took a fancy to a few of us and invited us for drinks under the Eiffel Tower after the tour. Of course Mark and Candace and I willingly accepted, and bought ourselves what would count for dinner and some French bottles to share on our way to this monument of art and romance.
There is an almost magical vibe about the parks around the Eiffel Tower. We’d all been there before, but this time, in different company perhaps, we laughed and chatted and enjoyed our time together. Mark and Per went off to play soccer with some others nearby, around 1am. Candace leaned over on my shoulder as we gazed at the glittering tower. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more.” I tell her.
“That’s ok, this is perfect” she answers.

After a fly’s flitter we (Mark and Candace and I) rose and bade farewell to our newfound friends to return to our hostel before the 2am curfew. Really, 2am is only lightly enforced and the receptionist on duty was still up so we three resolved to crack and enjoy the last bottle of wine we’d bought for the evening.
Still the receptionist isn’t finished with chatting up other hostelees, so Candace and I make a break for an ATM to get some cash out. Together. Alone. After … well a few bottles of wine.
Nearly, we nearly get ourselves (OK, just me) in bad territory, but we don’t. I’m taken with how easy we can turn on and off (especially off) the romance, and still be so cool and fun together. I bid her goodnight with “Candace Cross, you rock”.

2006-06-27T21:27:00.000+10:00

We knew we’d have a big day of driving ahead of us, so after not a really early morning we first head down to an Internet café. To grab addresses of hostels in Paris.
On the road and we’re driving through the alps and through France, and really feeling it in our back pockets. We spent AU$150 in tolls on this day alone, it really is crazy.
We hardly stopped except for half an hour to have luke-warm sausages and old chips for “lunch”.
The last of the tolls we passed through was a bit of trouble. We’d been paying by Visa card for all the previous ones, but this lady flatly refused to take it, saying that none of the booths at this toll would. This was a real problem because Mark and I had only a couple of Euro between us, and needed to make 18! On go the hazard lights and we franticly search through pockets in bags and all sections of suit-cases to find all the Euro we could scrounge. When we were humble and sorry and funny about it the lady in the booth saw the humour in it and was friendly towards us – I think she was about to give us a slight discount before we produced the last few coins to make up the total.

Driving into Paris we go to look up the address of one of the hostels, and I realise that I’ve forgotten to change TomTom’s maps around and we don’t have any detailed maps of Paris at all, only highways in and out of the place! Great, now what? Well the traffic’s terrible so we have a bit of time to think about it.
We remembered that the hostels were near to the Eiffel Tower, so we started there once we found it (it’s big, but not that big ya know). After driving around it for about 20mins we randomly happened upon one of the streets we were looking for. Or at least drove past it and spent 5mins driving round the “block” (there is not a single square or rectangular block in the whole of Paris it seems) to get back there. Once again the luck of the Irish (Mark must be Irish) came through in full flight because the first street car park we saw in town was right out the front of the hostel we’d just found. Amazing, and quite handy later on.

We rock in, pleased as pie that we’d actually stumbled upon something we were randomly driving around searching for, but our spirits were soon slightly dampened when the friendly receptionist told us they were well and truly booked out. She suggested another place that “always has rooms” and showed us how to get there by train. We told her we had a car and that if there was a chance we’d get a room the next night we’d just as soon sleep in it. She suggested that we do that very thing, and by the way the showers are up those stairs and breakfast is downstairs wink-wink. She also said that if we come back after the 2am curfew then there’s likely to be a bed or two available where someone has booked but not shown up.

We head on out towards the Eiffel Tower (taking a long way of course cos it’s our first go) in the hope of a big screen being there with the France Spain game on. Nothing. Then Mark and I eerily re-enacted what a few of my tour mates and I did the previous year in trying to find a train way from the Eiffel Tower to a few stops down where we were told a decent night district was, and there was likely to be a screen.
45mins later we arrive at the end of the 15min train trip. Our main problem was that we didn’t have any Euro, having spent it all on the last toll we’d just passed. Oh well, we finally made it, and once again there was no big screen but there were lots of excited Parisians flowing out of pubs all around.

Pretty interesting game. We were slightly disappointed to see the French get up, but it made for a great vibe after the match. We were quite famished, and it really is great how you can go out for a meal at 11:30pm at night (and we weren’t the last to arrive) in Europe – it’s a top lifestyle.
I ordered duck and Mark steak. I was somewhat surprised to see them both come out in the same sauce, and somewhat disappointed to see it was a pepper sauce that suited Mark’s steak perfectly (his was a lovely meal) and mine like a bill does a platypus.

After knocking off a delightful bottle of wine at the same place we made our way back to the hostel and were half in luck – there was one bed available! Mark had already said he wanted to be the one to take the cheaper car option and I wasn’t keen on that idea so it worked out tops.

Getting ready for bed in the dorm a certain girl came in and we started chatting. Her name was Candace, she was from Canada and the two of us hit it off from the start. We shared a few stories before agreeing to meet over breakfast and going to bed.

2006-06-26T21:52:00.000+10:00

We didn’t need to sleep in after a decent early night so we hit the road for the big day ahead.
It must be said that neither of us were upset at the prospect of leaving Croatia. This was the only place in the whole of Europe where we really felt this way at all, and we certainly felt it here. It seems unfair to the (still majority perhaps) members of the population who are genuinely friendly people, but Mark and I experienced at best idle ignorance of us from any member of the Croatian public that we didn’t pay money to, with only a small handful of exceptions. And this includes a decent smattering of people, and no end of friendly greetings from us.
I wasn’t aware of a Croatian (or Yugoslavian as it seems to be) stereotype to this effect before I went away, but am certainly able to contribute my experience of the same now.

Our drive took us through a small but pleasant section of Slovenia. Snooze and you’ll miss it – it was all of 20mins long. Somewhere in Italy was our intended destination, perhaps around Turin, but we had no really solid ideas.

Around the right time of day we entered Milan, wanting to make the Piazza del Du Duomo for the Australia Italy game. (We’d been tipped off by a friendly local at a roadhouse who’d heard us give the language a good solid yet pathetic attempt. Once again glad to be somewhere not Croatian.)
In a bit of a hurry we parked the car in a paid car park area that ended up being over 3km from the piazza, so we really had to hustle to make it in time.

For the first half Mark and I stood on our own near the back side third of the people gathered. Early on we were approached by a girl who told us she was a journalist and would like to ask us questions. We gladly agreed but were a little stumped by her first one: “Why are you here?” Simply enough we answered that we were watching the game, and where better to do it than Italy if not in the stadium or back home. Fair enough it seemed, until her next question: “And you don’t feel unsafe?” This made us take another look at our surroundings. Suddenly the couple of blokes in front of us whose looks we interpreted as “check out these palukas” became the testy sussing out for what might conspire after the game.
At half time we sought out the main Aussie contingent that we saw from a distance. This was more fun now we had someone to cheer with. A couple of them were a little too toasted for comfort given the circumstances, which wouldn’t have been as much of a problem except the Italians didn’t know what to make of “We’re happy little Vegemites” and the Skippy theme song, and so assumed they were insults to them. Most of the Aussies were too scared to chant or sing though, and again the locals who were friendly came and asked us why we were there. We said we’d encountered pretty rough crowds in Croatia and that the police came to our aid, but this bloke responded with “Oh no, the police don’t attend this sort of thing here.”

The game is now infamous in Australian soccer history. This isn’t the forum to speculate as to what the outcome should have been, but I will say that it was a terrible way to lose. And the walk to the car was quite an ordeal with all the Italian celebration going on right down the main road we walked along. But we stood up straight, jerseys proud and flags flapping on our backs, and sucked up the jeers and leers of the supporters of a country who play to act.

On the road then, to Turin. We had actually collected the addresses of a couple of hostels in the area, but when we came to look for them we came to find we’d lost them. Great so we drive around randomly and randomly come across a few hotels. Last minute rooms are not cheap here; the best we find is a dodgy old room for 60 Euro.
The room taken care of we head out for a feed. I wasn’t going to let our only night in Italy pass without a great meal, and we happen to find one just around the corner.
That night was just tops, we had an absolutely fantastic meal, with beer and wine to suit each course perfectly, sitting at the back of a restaurant with a TV in the corner where we watched Switzerland play Ukraine, chatting occasionally with the staff, and having a great time overall.

2006-06-25T18:01:00.000+10:00

Our last full day in Pula was even lazier than the first. We went down again for a swim to the beautiful Adriatic that was just about at our doorstep, and then for a walk around the shoreline, as recommended to us by the guest house owner.
I should mention that ladies here are quite liberal when it comes to swimwear. Whether or not it is aesthetically pleasing for them to do so, many of them will lose their tops at some stage during the beach trip. Mark went off for a swim off on his own, and somehow never strayed too far from the shore…

We drove into town and saw the sixth largest arena built by the Romans which was there in the centre of Pula. This area of Croatia was part of Italy up until World War II, and the common greeting in the street (from those who will talk to you if you’re obviously foreign) is still Ciao.

With not much else to occupy us we enjoyed a large burger with an ice-cream chaser, and then headed back to our room for more football and sleep.

2006-06-24T22:29:00.000+10:00

We slept in good and proper on our first morning in Pula. We ambled around, going for a swim, a bit of a walk, bought some groceries (bread, eggs, bananas, milk and wine).
In the afternoon we drove over to the hostel to use the Internet there. Getting out of the car we figured it would probably be safe enough to put the Aussie flag back up on top of the car (it sits inside a window). Less than two hours later when we came back, it had been snapped off! This was seriously disheartening to the both of us – why would someone go and rip off the flag!

Later in the evening we kicked back on the couch and snoozed while watching the first game of the night. After the game we went to dinner at the same place as the night before, making sure to order nothing the same, except the complimentary schnapps. Mark and I had a fantastic time this evening. We laughed and reminisced (what little had already happened) and thought of people and things back home, and made a great time with each other.

The son of the people who own the guest house had offered us the previous day to take us out this night, saying if we go around 10pm he can take us to a party that’ll go until morning. We eagerly accepted, but sought him out as we were coming back from dinner to say that we’d like to watch the end of the second game before going out. He was already pretty wasted so it was no surprise that when we came back down after the football that he was gone (off his face gone, as we confirmed the next morning) and didn’t even answer the door.

So then it was up to us to find our own party. No worries, we hadn’t had any trouble previously. We headed into town, parked the car where we guessed was something closely resembling action, and wandered around. The place that looked most promising had a hefty entry charge, and everywhere else we went there didn’t seem to be anything much going on, and people rudely stared at us as we went past too.
After about an hour of this we left the city quite frustrated and almost disgusted.

I had a terrible sleep that night, but was at least amused by the first non-email contact I’d had with my girlfriend since leaving. She was in the USA leading a summer camp, but this night was away from camp and getting quite sozzled. At least someone found a decent party!

2006-06-23T11:20:00.000+10:00

We woke late the next morning, missing breakfast, packed our gear and shipped out bound for Pula. On the way we saw some beautiful views of Rijeka, but kept going without taking photos for some reason that escapes me and would have been quite pathetic anyway I'm sure...

So we rock into Pula with no idea what to expect or where we might stay. We stop off at a tourist information stand where the curt lady told us the directions to the youth hostel - just follow this main road straight on until you get to the beach then turn right.

Somehow we got lost going straight on, and within 10mins we're well out of Pula and passing through another nearby small town! OK then fine, we turn on TomTom and keep driving. When TomTom boots up we follow the turn it tells us to take, and find ourselves on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
Not to be foiled and not to admit defeat we defiantly follow the road to its end, ignoring further instructions from TomTom (telling us to turn down non-existant roads anyway) and found ourselves on the road that we took out of town.

By black magic or common sense or dumb luck we found the Youth Hostel. Booked out. OK then, let's use the Internet to find addresses of other hostels or boarding houses. This came up with nothing, it was quite disappointing really.
Right, let's drive around then. A short drive away we find a guesthouse (normal house with a small sign out the front saying "Zimmer Frei" in a couple of languages), and there's even something available, but for some reason Mark's just not interested.

Still driving around, we stop off at Hotel Pula to check if just maybe there might be anything free. We're in luck, there is one room available. 100 Euros. We gag and leave.

Across the road is another guesthouse. We go in to check it out, but it's a double room and we don't really feel like sharing a bed for a few nights.

Around the corner, yet another option. At this one the lady tells us she's full up, but says there's another house nearby and she can come with us to show us. Driving down the road she waves to her mildly amused husband who's just now walking up the road. Nearby we're back at the previous option, bah. But wait, one more chance a few doors down.

Bingo! We've got a winner, an attic room (penthouse we prefer to say), with everything we need, brand new gear and a patio with a view of the ocean! Sweet, we're booked in for three nights.
The people who own it are great, they invite us down for coffee out the back, take us for a short walk to the beach and point us in the direction of some good restaurants. We take the advice and have a top dinner at one of the places, but only after watching both games.

2006-06-22T14:58:00.000+10:00

Walking past the car in the morning we were quite surprised to find a parking ticket! A friendly local told us to pay for it at a Post Office, which we did on our way down to the river where we took some sweet photos of the castle and citadella by day, with Luiz.
Luiz was a decent guy, but taught us one important lesson: lock your young girls away from Brazillians. He openly quoted to us "How old is old enough? If she can cross the street on her own, she's old enough for sex". No wonder Brazillians girls are known for sexual prowess, they've been practicing for 8yrs longer than anyone else.

With that, we left for Zagreb, and stopped along the way at a town called Nagykanizsa (Hungary: your country for weird language and impossible place names) to watch either Japan and Brazil or Czech and Italy. We found a place that had a nice big flatscreen on the street and plenty of empty seats up front, and both games on the one screen! Wonderfully satisfied, we settled in, and ordered beer and pizza.
20minutes later the power goes out. Unbelievable! We wait around for a bit to see if it'll come back on, but it's no banana, so Mark waits for our pizza and I head off down the road to see if there are other options. Not too far down I find one where the girl says they also have a big screen and yes can turn it on the football. Great, back down to Mark and we swap roles - he takes our stuff up to the new place while I wait around for the pizza and finish my beer. But before the pizza comes out Mark's back. Apparently there's no broadcast!
Shocked and dismayed, we sullenly dispatch of our pizza and get back on the road, to Zagreb.

Entering Croatia, we had an Aussie flag sticking out the top of the car, another large one draped across the front dash, and of course we're wearing our jerseys. The border police found us most amusing, and asked where we were going. When they heard we were hoping to watch the game on a public big screen in the main sqaure of Zagreb they were surprised and warned us to be careful. Hmm....

Our first go at a hostel wound us up on a dirt road, so we scrapped that one and went on to find another one that looked decent, and also had available beds and a fair share of Aussies to boot. Great, a quick settle in and then on the tram to the main square.
We're waiting on the side of the main road for the tram and getting lots of bemused faces, friendly laughs, thumbs up and tooting of horns - our chests swelled up with pride, and we were further heartened by the chat on the tram we had with a bunch of high-school age boys who were quite cool.

We arrived in the main sqaure pretty early and dressed up like this:

Not long later the square was chockas - looking like this:

Mark and I were a bit nervous.
Luckily we found a few other Aussies (who happened to be staying at our same hostel) and about half a dozen poms (that's never good news...) and we all hung together. Before the game, and especially while Croatia were ahead the people round us were quite friendly and shaking hands, telling us how game we were and all the rest. We weren't afraid to let out a cheer and a chant, we sang the Aussie Anthem loud and proud, and the pommies went fairly balmy as they tend to do. Half time was a little hairy, we gave a rousing Aussie chant which ended abruptly when one of us was narrlowly hit with a bottle. That settled us down pretty quick.

Well we all know the final outcome - 2 all, which mean Australia went through. We were simply ecstatic, but let out a half-hearted chant and then went very quiet, quite wary of how the mood of those around us had changed. All good so far. Next thing a TV crew come over and encourage us to make some noise, so we cut loose! Chanting and screaming and whooping, we let them hav it! Then the sky tore apart and it rained bottles. Well, sprinkled maybe, but still bottles. We shut up again and ran across the road/tram lines to where there was a contingent of police standing.

Here we were slightly safer, and really it should be said that the majority of Zagrebians were really nice. One very large Croatian bear (it was more unusual for him to be human than hibernating) came up to us and said "Hey! Australians!" at which point we were poised to soil our durps before he continued with "PHOTO!!!" and we collectively sighed with relief and posed for him.
At the other end of the intimidation spectrum was a quite small fella who came up to me and said "Hey, Australians!" at which point I offered him my hand to shake. This was the most insulting thing I could have done, as he was here to taunt and start a fight, not to be amiable. And the group behind him looked pretty dark about it too. He gave me a mighty shove, which set me back all of 3mm I think, so I turned my back in his face (to hide my strange mix of trembling and sniggering as much as anything). At this time the police came over to us to talk with one of our group who was fluent in Croatian.
Soon later we were all ushered onto a tram - already fairly crowded before our contingent of a dozen Aussies/Poms and 4 or 5 cops. Just before we pulled out the same weedy Croat came up and tried to get on the tram, but he was kept out by the police officer stationed at the door, so as we were leaving I thought it entirely appropriate to blow him a few kisses and watch him explode.
We were instructed to leave the tram at a stop near our hostel where we noticed a police 4WD had been following us also. We all walked together to the hostel, we sang "For they're jolly good fellows" for the cops, and went inside for the merry making.
I offer you this photo as evidence of evening's outcome. Note the only men in colours are Mark and I who are also waving flags, right at the back. Crazy.

Drinking games ensued, which somehow tapered into singing Disney theme songs and being told to shut up and go to bed by a tough looking "woman" with more hair under her arms than on her head. We eventually did.

As a nice postscript, we later found out Mark had his photo published in the paper:

2006-06-21T20:28:00.000+10:00

Not long later we woke. Our mates the hostel owners told us Kasha had come last night and waited for us. We felt bad for missing her, but left our e-mail addresses and returned a book we borrowed from her before hitting the road southbound.

Driving with the Carpathians far on our left we made for Slovakia where we stopped at Zvolen and found a pub to watch the football at. We were also treated to one of the hotest and nicest waitresses of the trip so far.
Slovakian toilets are weird. Well this one was. I pushed the button to turn on the lights, and found the only toilet in the men's. It was in such a tiny room that you couldn't stand infront of the toilet and have enough space to get your pants down and sit. So, thankful that noone else was around, I had to perform all this on the side of the toilet halfway out the door and then pivot on the seat. Also, whoever put together the room must have been a posture freak, cos you can't lean forward on seat or you whack your head on the toilet paper dispenser. And as I'm sitting there pondering all of this, the button I pressed for the lights pops out and next thing I'm sitting in the world's smallest toilet in the dark.

On the road again and we made it to Budapest at not a bad time, but got really badly caught in traffic. It was unbelievable, it wasn't a normal traffic jam because after sitting stopped for 5mins there was still no sign of movement. Not one. Literally a car park, but only in our direction. We later found out that G. Dubya had arrived in town, which I guess means an automatic shutdown of the place.
We made our way to the first hostel address that we had, but after driving past it a couple of times we couldn't see anything remotely hostelish about it, so we went on to the second address, where we were having the same problem until two very tourist looking girls went up to the door. Turns out there was a hostel there and they were staying at it, so we followed them up. The place was small, to the point where we mistook someone eating at a bench in the kitchen to be the receptionist behind his counter. When we did find the guy running the show, it was like he was in a dream daze - he was bewildered that we were able to be inside the hostel without him having let us in, and amazed that we would like to stay there. They didn't have beds anyway, but we sat down on a couch next to a cool Brazillian guy called Luiz and watched most of the Netherlands Argentina match. He told us there were beds at the hostel he was staying at (it didn't have a TV so he was here) and after the game we walked over with him and booked ourselves in.

We walked back to the car, admiring the city, then drove the car back to the hostel and took a wrong turn on the way. Next thing you know we're driving across the main bridge, and infront of us is a large statue lit up, and to our right is a massive lit up palace, and to our left are more massive statues on the top of a hill. We were completely and utterly flabbergasted, it was amazing and gorgeous. We dumped our stuff at the hostel, and the three of us and Luiz went out for a drive. We stopped at the citadel (the hill with big statues) and took photos of the night. So fantastic!

2006-06-20T23:30:00.000+10:00

Big day.

We started out going to Auschwitz. There are two main camps you visit - Auscwitz 1 and Auschwitz 2 called Berkinau. By mistake we drove to Berkinau first, and were appalled by a young bloke in the parking area who came to wash the windscreen, then demanded money. I thought Mark was generous by giving him 5 Euro, but he wanted 15! I went to get out of the car to give him a serve but his mate came over and said it was alright. Unfreakingbelievable.

We soon discovered out mistake and drove over the Auchwitz 1, bought a guide book and wandered around. We went into all of the main blocks and most of the others. Rooms full of personal effects and hair gave scope to the scale of this camp. Rooms showing living conditions showed the dying conditions. We saw the prison within the prison, with a firing squad wall next to it and cells inside where people would suffocate, and others where 4 people were kept in a room too small for one person to lie down. We saw the gas chamber and crematorium that was mostly disassmbled (by the Nazis when they new they were being overrun) but what was intact was equipment designed and built with the purpose of being efficient at killing many people.

Back over to Berkinau which is just massive. A train line goes down the middle, at the end of it all the passengers got off, were sorted into those who could work (30% or less) and those who couldn't. Those who couldn't were marched straight into an underground area where they were told to take off their clothes for a shower, then they were crammed together into another much smaller room. Lethal gas was injeted for 15mins or so, and after it cleared men came in and brought the bodies out one at a time, shaving the hair (for a nearby textile factory) and pulling gold from tooth fillings before putting them in a furnace, one at a time.
There are ruins of the two gas chamber/crematoriums either side of the two platforms at the end of the train line and an international monument betwee them. There was some light rain on us when we walked past it.

We spent about 4 hours between both camps. It's an experience that is hard to write about so soon (even more than week!) after.

Heading back to Krakow we ignored TomTom's directions and followed signs (having been fooled by TomTom before into driving down dodgy back roads), but this time it was the wrong thing to do again, as they took us through a dozen villages and behind many a tractor.

Into the main square where we thought we'd be able to watch the Poland Costa Rica game, but there was no big screen! Jeez. Oh well, to a bar!
After the game we went to Dominium for dinner (it was quite good) then back to the hostel for a shower before once again going off in search of night life.

Wandering down the square I could have sworn I heard someone calling my name (in a funny accent). I turned around and sure enough, there were Greg and Stuart the two guys who left their party to show us around a couple of nights earlier! They call some mates (girls) and we all go out clubbing once more. It was a top blast, we hardly even realised the time was flying, and only eventually returned to the hostel at 5:30am.

2006-06-19T03:50:00.000+10:00

We took the liberty of sleeping in, seeing as we were the only ones in our room. By the time we got up and had breakfast we were ready for another snooze, but our mate Kasha from the previous night had the day off for some random reason (the kids at school all decided to not show upor something...), so she volunteered to take us for a tour around Krakow.

We saw the old university, St Mary's cathedral with its gorgeous altar and colourful insides, Florencian(?) St and quickly walked through the strangest and most beautifully decorated restaurants I've ever seen, which was there. On to the Pope John Paul II window, along the oldest street in Krakow, and up to the castle where we had lunch before going into the cathedral. Pretty trippy to walk through the crypt where kings of centuries ago were laid. Even the guy who discovered Australia's largest mountain is buried there! (It's actually pronounced Kovchusco or something). Lastly, down below the castle to the mythical dragon that breathes fire whenever a virgin walks past... must have been on the blink though...

Back at the hostel we saw the end of the Saudi Ukraine gam, and all of Spain and Tunisia, then headed out again. A place called Dominiums was recommended to us by the Aussie we met the other night, but it was closed (again) so we just returned home and crashed.

2006-06-18T03:39:00.001+10:00

Today we left the known quantity (ie, I'd been there once before haha) of the much loved Prague, and ventured onwards into what was the great unknown of Poland, and Krakow specifically.

Getting out of Prague was a bit of an ordeal. With TomTom not being hugely accurate, we (ok I was driving) took a wrong turn, and to do a u-turn and get back on the original road took us 20mins!
There were some gorgeous places along the way - so picturesque you just have to stop. Green rolling hills with quaint towns all along the way. Nature's visual hangover cure.

The border police at Poland had perhaps not seen Australian passports in a while; they certainly took their time looking us over. But soon enough we were through, and hooning down the road to get to Krakow in time for teh Aus/Brazil game, before running into a horse and carriage on the highway! It's a crazy place is Poland.

We found Krakow, and a place to stay, and went for a wander through the old town square to find a bar from which to watch the game. No Aussies around at all, but we soon ran into two Brazillians who actually turned out to be one Brazillian and one Pole wearing a Brazillian flag. Together we found a bar and became more interesting than the game itself to the locals who thoroughly enjoyed our antics. At the end, a group of girls came up and asked for a photo with Mark and I. Gotta love these Polish chicks.

Back to the hostel for a bit, and the hostel owners invite us out to the balcony for a BBQ with him and a couple of friends! Quite gernerous really, we'd just wandered in off the street that evening and already he was shouting us beer and food.
We had some fun with these guys, including lots of cross-language misunderstanding and even some cross-sexuality confusion when the owners (who are gay Poles, what else can you say), wonder out loud (in Polish) if Mark and I might also be (we were both wearing bright yellow jerseys, and laughing a lot together). Kasha (our new best friend as she was) soon alerted us to this, despite them telling her not to, but she did it in a way they didn't understand. Mark and I left pretty soon after that.

Left and went into town where we were going to meet our Brazillian mate at a club called Prozac. Turns out he wasn't there and we didn't like the place too much, so we wandered across the square looking for other options when we were stopped first by some poms who wanted to tell hear us say how good Brazil were, and then another couple of blokes who took us under their wing. One was a big Polish bloke, the other an Aussie, and they'd just then wandered off from another party for a brief moment to buy some food (even leaving a beer on the bar). But plans change, and next thing we know they were leading us all around trying to find a decent late night bite, and then on to a club where there we were promised no end of gorgeous Polish girls.
And right they were! There are gorgeous Poles for every appetite, from nymphs to amazons, and here was a great cross-section. Cheers to those fellas; Mark (especially!) and I (abstinantly!) went home more than satisfied, and quite exhausted.

2006-06-17T03:16:00.000+10:00

Back into Prague for our last full day. We made our way to Wencesles Square, snapshotted a few sights we hadn't yet seen and then spent a bit of time shopping for gifts, and pants for Mark.

The previous night we'd met a couple of Americans at Pet Penez, one of whom was keen on going to see a church made of bones about an hour's drive away. Mark and I were keen so headed back out of the city in the early arvo to see if we could meet with her (we'd left a note at her hostel that morning). Turns out our note must have missed her, and we had no idea where to go, so we went back to our hotel, moved all of our stuff out to the new hostel, had a shower and then went back into the city to see Czech play Ghana. A great upset for us (as Aussies) to see, but the Czech folk weren't too impressed.
The atmosphere was nothing on the Germany Poland game in Dortmund, but it was still pretty good to be there.

We wandered around, looking for Sip and Joe who we missed catching up with, but then later found a nice underground bar with a big screen showing the night's game of USA vs Italy, along with a cute waitress out the front, and some American fans in the basement whom we could cheer against.
Even just the two of us making usual game-time noises must have been a bit much for the yanks, one of them gave us the finger when they scored, which we found hilarious, especially when we saw the replay and found it was an Italy own goal anyway!

Dinner done with, we went out the largest night club in Central Europe. This was quite a bit better than I remembered it, it had been cleaned and the top story was opened; a chillout bar which was a good place to go to get warmed up.
Mark and I danced the night away with various girls and the odd (one) queer Swede, spending most of our time on the 60's-80's floor just to be daggy.

Gotta love Prague. I'm glad Mark's going back on his Contiki tour so he can buy me a painting!

2006-06-16T04:57:00.000+10:00

Feeling a bit jipped by the hotel we were staying in we wandered down the road to a hostel and booked our third night to be there. The place was pretty dingy actually, but it seemed solid and clean enough, the people were friendly, and it was quite cheaper.
Walking back to the hotel I looked over at PugPug (our car) in the hotel car park (behind a secure fence) and noticed it had its wheels clamped! Inside to sort out the drama, and they gave me a form to fill out that should have been put on the dash of the car the first time. Not to worry, not harm done thank goodness.

Next was sussing out the public transport to get us into the old city. It's easy enough to use and pretty much everywhere, so we had no trouble catching a tram into the city and then part way out of it again. D'oh. Have an argument and then catch the next tram back in.

Prague is really such a lovely city. We went into the old sqaure and saw the churches there, including the clock tower. Then over the Charles Bridge and found a place off the main road to eat a traditional Czech meal of roasted duck with potato dumplings, bread and two different types of cabbage.
Mark's camera died, so instead of climbing the hill to the palace we thought we'd head back to the hotel to have a shower (it was well over 30 degrees and were sweating like madmen) and then head back into town to watch the football from there.

Back at the hostel, we ran into a couple of other Aussies - Sip and Joe whom we go on great with, so we sat down to watch England just beat Trinidad & Tobego, went to our new favourite place for dinner "Pet Penez", and then back to the hotel for Sweden and Paraguay. By the end of that we'd had enough beer to just be ready for sleep, and what do you know, our beds were only a lift ride away so off we chuff and lights out.

2006-06-15T19:19:00.000+10:00

Not a hugely eventful day today. We left Hagen fairly early, bound for Prague. Along the way were some perfect driving conditions: overcast and cool, open 3 lane autobahn; and we got the car up to 180km/hr with only a slight decline (a record we have yet to break...)

TomTom took us through Nuremburg (on the other side of the country to Nurburg) where we were yesterday), a city was vaguely familiar with (read: have been given a short tour of once before; not ever driven around it) so we pulled in for lunch and to check e-mails.

Back on the road and we were soon entering the Czech Republic. We made good time to Prague, and quickly discovered another problem withour whole sat-nav idea - the maps of Eastern Europe seem to be a little more than slightly off. Turns out it's not a showstpooer, but it requires whoever's not driving to be following the map and to know where you are, and to give directions rally driver style.

OK so we make it to the Exotl Inn alright in the end - with sme help from a local Czech driver who was already on the phone and who also manaed to honk his horn and point us to not turn down this particular street, but to go forwards more and down the next one. And watch out for that tram.

Anyway, this inn, it's nice and seems fairly new, but the prices are rip-off tourist traps and our bathroom is falling apart and isn't drained, so when some dope showers with the door open the floor is satched for a day and a half afterwards.

Staropramen beer is my fav so far.

2006-06-14T22:07:00.000+10:00

Today was Mark's 21st birthday!
We left Pünderich (as we found out it's called) after a large breakfast and another long-but-with-minimal-content conversation with the sweet old landlady, on our way to the Nurburgring.

The tracks were closed because of a race the next day. This was a slight disappointment at first, but we soon saw that there was still heaps to do apart from sit and watch flash cars all day.
We started at the F1 track. The museum there was quite good, and it was a shame we had to race through it to make the tour. But the tour was worth it - it took us over through the 'paddocks' as they call them, and because of the race the paddocks were full of cars, and beautiful ones at that, and were being tuned. We got to go up into the media room, and also up onto the roof of the control centre/pits building, and down through the whole pits. Lots of great photos and just a top atmosphere of everyone running around like crazy getting their cars going for the race.
Next we went up to Nordschleife, the larger road circuit that we were really more interested in anyway. There's an M5 BMW taxi you can get to race you around the full circuit and we were hopefull to get in without any booking. But again, because of the race the next day the whole thing was booked out. Oh well, we did get to see a few flash cars doing test laps at least!

From Nürburgring it was to be over to Dortmund, and off we went, TomTom leading the way. Unfortunately we got caught in a large traffic jam - nearly doubling the time it should have taken us to get there, and we didn't even make it all the way. My PDA (mini-computer that runs TomTom) went flat just when we really needed it, and we discovered the car charger for it wasn't working the whole time.

Bugger, so we took the next exit and found a shopping centre where we were going to see if we could find a map and something to drink. We walked into a travel agent and were treated once again to generous hospitality German style - he phoned up places for us, tore a couple of maps out of his phone book and gave us directions to a nearby hostel and instructions on how to get into Dortmund.

Sweet, so off we go to dump the luggage and onto the train, making sure to walk in the completely wrong direction for the train station, just to stop us feeling clever.
Dortmund was just about in a state of riot. By the time we got there (about half way through the first half) there were gangs of police roaming some areas, the main square had the big screen torn down, and everyone was crowding around smaller screens in other pubs. Glass and rubbish (rubble even if it sounds better) covered the streets, and we even saw some stormtrooper-cops.
Finally we found a decent sized big screen, downstairs in a food court, with hundreds of people piled on top of each other. Perfect! In we get and join in the going nuts for the last half of the game. It was great timing - we were just able to help shield a couple of fraulines from the storming masses (they were quite.. appreciative) and still had 45mins of tension before the Germans actually scored and won the game.

Such a top and unique experience.

2006-06-13T21:47:00.000+10:00

They don't seem to make boring days in Europe.

In the morning (after updating the blog) we used TomTom (the sat nav program) to find a shopping centre nearby and on the way for where we wanted to go, and stopped in and bought another FM transmitter for my iPod (no music is just not doable), and other supplies.
Then it was on to Nurburg, home of the Nurburgring racetracks. TomTom told us there was a campsite nearby, and off we went.

The nearby campsite was actually in some random village that wasn't really very close to Nurburg at all. But it was quite nice, right on a river, the weather was warm and we were stuffed so we decided to make the most of it and stay at the caravan park there anyway.
The pub where the park is run from was closed with a sign in German about how to get help. Hm. OK, next pub along, and there's a nice girl who spoke (quite broken) English and started to assist by pointing us back to the first pub. We told her that no it was closed, so she came out and tramped around the caravan park with us to find the owner. We eventually did, and he spoke even less English! We managed to get out of him that there were vacancies and the price, but not til later did we manage to communicate that we didn't have our own caravan but would need to sleep in someone else's.
That wasn't an option so he took us back to the second pub where the girl then took us to a Gasthaus (Guest House), which was full and then to another, which wasn't. She then left us with an elderly lady who spoke absolutely zero English at all, but only after we'd worked out some of the details. 35Euro for two, including breakfast and with our own room ("nicht zu frauline???" or something) and large bathroom.

We unloaded and, after a heavily involved discussion (the subject matter was very light, it was the effort required for discussion that was heavy) with the landlady, headed back down to the river to make ourselves wurst and cheese rolls for lunch. It was just lovely. The weather was so warm (30+ degrees) and the grass was thick and the view was quite pleasant. And, one better, we found a third pub that advertised showing of World Cup matches!

In we went, and drank 2 milkshakes each while watching the end of the South Korea vs Togo game. Then it was back outside to the thick grass for a deep sleep in the shade. Back into the pub for the next game (France vs Switzerland), this time trying the different beers and making sure to document (by photograph) the first time we tried each one.

That done, we had to find another venue for the screening of the third game, so in the car and through the windy narrow cobblestone (probably older than Captain Cook) streets, stopping at every guest house and pub until we found a place that offered to turn on the TV for us. Well, they might as well, we were the only ones there.
As a bonus they had a large meat platter (with veges and salad) on the menu, so Mark and I indulged while we had the chance, and it was just a top meal! The chef was a youngish bloke and sat down with us right infront of the TV for the first half of the game, soon joined by his sister (or was it his girlfriend? We didn't ask questions...). Then, after we'd finished the meal, they invited us to their friend's place where they have a projector going for all the games, and we saw the 2nd half of the Brazil vs Croatia match sharing beers with a room full of people who didn't understand us, but who found it amusing that we cheered so much.

Back to the landlady's guesthouse (just roll the car downhill slowly and don't scrape the sides!) for a well earned rest.

2006-06-12T18:53:00.000+10:00

What a day for the books.
We arrived in Frankfurt a bit before 6:30am, on a plane full of Japanese jersey wearing fanatics. They were cool but, we got photos with them.
Standing in the customs line we were approached by another Aussie-jersey wearing bloke who asked us where we were headed. His plane was late so he'd missed his train to Bad Durkheim (30mins from Kaiserslautern where the Aus-Jap game was on that arvo) where he was going to meet the Aus Football Fanatics Ass. that we was a part of. If he was there by 9am then he'd get the bus with them to the game.

Our pickup from the airport was nearly half and hour late (after we called), but eventually the three of us were there to pick up Mark's and my baby for a month - our 206 SW Trendy. Getting used to driving oddly on the wrong side of the car as well as the wrong side of the road, we headed off for Bad Durkheim.
About half way there, the BMW infront of us starts flashing - or at least a red sign on the back seat does, saying "Polize" and "Stop", and an arm out the window flags us to pull over. We pull into a nearby servo, excited and bewildered. The cops come over, get one look at us in matching yellow jerseys and says "ah, football".
Turns out it was just a random check ("we like to do this in Germany") and we were off again.

Within 10mins of Bad Durkheim, both the GPS receiver and my PDA with the sat nav software batteries went flat. The iPod accessory we'd bought in Malaysia was a dud; not only would it not play the iPod, but it wouldn't charge a USB device (like a PDA for example) for more than 2 seconds. Great, middle of nowhere and no idea where to go.

After a short bit we found signs to follow, and made our way to the middle of Bad Durkheim, and soon after that were able to charge our techo-gadgets and found the campsite.
Upon inquring we heard that our mate had in fact missed his bus (by over half an our, no surprise) and also that there was one available caravan in the campsite! We snapped that up, for a decent 32 euro (quite flash van), dumped luggage and headed off for Kaiserslautern.

Man it was packed there. We parked the car where we thought must be close to the stadium because of the police and millions of cars around, and then proceeded to walk over a kilometre to the stadium itself. Our other mate already had tickets, so we left him at the stadium and back-tracked to where people were lining up to collect tickets, in the hope of lining up ourselves to buy some.
While the volunteers were very friendly and didn't exactly laugh at us, it was obvious that we weren't going to get tickets, so we resigned ourselves to looking for a big screen nearby.

Wandering idly towards the town, we were approached by a few scalpers. Quite dubious at first, but still really excited, we snooped around, sussed out a few legit tickets of passers buy, and decided to take the plunge.

We paid 145euro each for Category 1 tickets. Heart in mouth, we headed for the gate, making a point to stop and stand around at each security check point to see if other punters were having trouble with tickets.
The big one was the scanners. But we were all good! The screen read 'accept' (or something) and we were in!

We found our way to the seats (making sure to get a photo with a cute volunteer on the way) which were 4 rows back in the 1st tier almost above the Aussie bench. Just fantastic. And noone came to check on us, noone came to kick us out, and we were set!

My brother and I were witness to the first Australian goals scored in World Cup history, and our first win too.

Voices sore, and tired as all buggery, we shared beers with other Aussie kin before retiring to our car (which wasn't that far away), driving to the caravan (long way around, who reads sings...) and a tops nights sleep with pleasant dreams!

2006-06-11T18:39:00.000+10:00

In the morning we slept in as long as possible before breakfast finished, making sure to sneak some bread rolls for lunch.
Back over to Chinatown to try our hand at bargaining for sunnies, trinkets and shirts. We did quite well by Aus standards, but were perhaps still too soft really.
Buying supplies from a 7-11 (after a trip to the bank - they don't take Visa doncha know) we randomly bumped into the same girls again and bade them farewell once more before heading back to the hotel to change, and then over to the shmick new conert hall in the base of the Petronas Towers to see the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra play a whole lot of Mozart. It was quite lovely, despite us struggling to stay awake at times.
The towers have a shopping centre in it, and I suffered trying a gawdawful coffee at the expense of free Internet access (Starbucks' redeeming feature) on my PDA. I finally found an iPod accessory we were after for our European car trek, and then we headed off to the airport.

Our taxi driver was a really friendly guy, full of natural life extenders and general health advice (Ginger is the secre the Japanese have been keeping all these years as to why they're always so alert!). Great timing, we checked in and ate some really average airport-priced food before settling down a bar to watch the Netherlands v Serbia & Montenegro game, which finished only 15mins after our gate arrival time! At least we didn't have to wait anywhere.

2006-06-10T18:25:00.000+10:00

We made it. Off at least.
No real dramas, we went and had drinks before going home for a shower and final berating from our worried mother (over taking alcohol into Malaysia) and before we knew it we were trying to sleep on the plane.
Landing around 6am we caught a mad taxi ride to Hotel Corus where we were greeted by the friendly concierge who suggested a tour or two and told us how to get up the Petronas Towers - it's free but you have to join a long line.
Imagine our vibrancy as we stood for an hour in a small closed in area, just after stepping off an 8hr flight. But we prevailed over the temptation to collapse and soon were on our way back to the hotel for a sleep before our 12 noon tickets up the tower.
A good snooze later and we were ravenous so we chuffed over the road to a cheap dive where all the meals were 6 Ringet or less, until it's time to pay when they become three times the price. Magic!

The tour up the Petronas Towers was very short really. In the lift and out again at the sky bridge where you are allowd to wander around for a few minutes before being sent back down to the interactive-information-centre thingy.
The view, even though it was only half way up was still pretty speccy, and we met a couple of Canadian girls when we then went and had lunch with.

Mark and I did a short tour in the arvo, the Roal Selengar pewter factory (home to a hundred or few industrius women with hammers and blowtorches, as well as the world's largest beer mug).
Next stop was some dodgy clothing place. The demonstration on how patterend silk cloth was made "with only the artist's imagination" was less inspiring than it was demonstration, and the girl didn't actually demonstrate anything. They did chuff us straight into the shop pretty quick smart though.
The final stop was the Batu Caves, a Hindu temple with 272 steps to the entrance of a large open cave. It was certainly interesting - especially to see all of the thousands of gods (the most gob-smacking being the female headed cow, complete with breasts, an udder, wings and a peacock tail). The inside of the caves had a disappointingly tacky sort of vibe though - cheap and nasty decorations and stalls and the like.

Back to the hotel, we had to crash again. After another hours rest we headed out in search of large shopping centres and then Chinatown. We found what Mark was after for the shopping, and at pretty good prices. And we saw the ritzy centre with an indoor theme park too.
Getting around was easy enough, we managed to make our way on public transport, and soon were trekking through the mad mob scene of the Chinatown night markets. Eventually we found the Reggae Bar where we were meeting the girls again, but it was already ridiculously packed so we went back to the bar at their hotel where we tried Malaysian (Skol), Singaporian (Tiger) and Dutch (Carlsburg) beers and watched Trinidad & Tobego keep Sweeden scoreless.

2006-03-22T00:00:00.000+10:00

Not too long later our boat arrived and we were bidding farewell to our kiwi mates and heading back across the sound to Milford Sound (the town).
Milford Sound is very small. As in a population of a hundred or so. Standing outside the bus/ferry terminal where we came in we found ourselves at a loss on how to get to the airport. We just missed a free shuttle bus, and no-one could tell us when it would be back. We asked one bloke who was standing next to a fancy looking 4WD if he was on his way to the airport. He said he wasn’t but pointed us in the right direction to walk there. Very reluctantly we started the trudge towards the airport, and just on our way out we saw the shuttle bus pull back in. Man how we ran to catch that bus, and we made it just in time.
Because we’d spent four days on the track we hadn’t confirmed our scenic flight to Queenstown and were now alone on the tarmac at the airport, completely unsure of what to do. I went off down the road to find a phone to call the flight company with (no mobile reception in Milford Sound), and Bryce and Steve waited around to see what would pop up at the airport.
Turns out we both got the job done, and also it wasn’t long before a string of other people arrived. One fancy 4WD pulled in and Steve said “hey, wasn’t that the bloke who told us he wasn’t going to the airport?” I said “no, close, but that’s not the car. … but that is” as right at that moment the first fancy 4WD pulled in! We quizzed the driver who sheepishly said he didn’t know where he was going before his clients jumped in.

In no time we were on the plane, taking off and marvelling at the scenery. It was great to see all these mountains from above – we paid an extra $170 to fly home in an hour over scenery instead of bus home in 6-8hrs, in a bus. We all appreciated each of these aspects now, and Steve went further by appreciated the steady drone of the engines and falling asleep.
Soon enough we were coming in to land, making our approach perpendicular to the tarmac runway in Queenstown, causing Steve and Bryce to be very awake with “what the hell?” anxiety for a bit, until we touched down safely.

We were never so glad to arrive at a hotel as we were that evening. Long hot showers and time in the spa later we were deciding the finer details of dinner. The hotel restaurant put on a steak and prawn buffet, so that’s where we went - taking much more liberty of the buffet concept than the wait staff would have liked.
We had to break foran intermission though, to return to our room and open our splendid bottle of St Clair White Label Reserve 2005 Sauvignon Blanc. We were sure to drink it out of camp utensils and to video such commemoration. This was truly the end of the track now, it had become mere memory.

Back into the restaurant for desert and then off to bed. But not before putting in a call to Ash to say hi and brag that we were still alive. I also got to talk with Susanne, and even arranged to meet both her and Ash at Christchurch airport where we were stopping over the next day.
Everything taken care of, we gave up our consciousness and drifted around the land of dreams.

Our final day on holiday began well, Steve and I made the plane from Queenstown fine, and as a pleasant surprise even sat just behind a couple of our kiwi mates from the Milford Track.
I met up with Susanne at Christchurch airport where we spend a couple of hours lazing with each other, and later joined Steve and Susan (another Connections lass) at the bar for the last drink of our trip.
Soon it was time to hit customs. Susanne went through while Steve and I paid our departure taxes. Just before we went through Ash rang saying he was on his way out to the airport and to wait for him. I was momentarily torn between holiday romance and holiday mateship, but sent Susanne a message to say I’d be late through and then proceeded to get lost round the airport looking for Steve and Ash. I did manage to find them shortly and we had a grand reminisce and sharing of stories. After a bit I went up to o through customs – skipping the queue and met Susanne. We spent sweet final minutes together. She was the very last to board her flight, and we blew kisses to each other in farewell and goodbye of what was among the grandest of things.

And soon enough it was me boarding, with Steve, the means of returning to ‘normal’ living, having lived a little more outside the standard, and armed with enough of this extra-life to hold over until the next adventure.

2006-03-21T00:00:00.000+10:00

We got the jump on dawn, rising in darkness to give ourselves a big head start on the final day. The plan was for Steve and Bryce to go on ahead while I did the washing and cleaning, to improve our chances of making it to the boat on time. The information given by the hut ranger said we could cover the distance in about 6 hours, but for us three the estimated times had always been well under our achieved times, and we had to make sure we reached the end before our boat ride over to Milford Sound left at 2pm.

I enjoyed trekking on my own, it allowed me to go at my own pace, and it was a rest from the child-like banter of Steve and Bryce that had grown on me in the same was the screech of a skinned cat might. Soon enough though I found Steve, but Bryce wasn’t with him. We worked out Bryce must have left even after I, but didn’t wait around for him; Steve was in a solid and stern mindset and he was making that boat no matter what.

Bryce did catch up, and we walked together for a bit until we came to Mackay Falls and Bell Rock where Bryce and I hung around to climb under Bell Rock and Steve powered on ahead.
We met up again at Lake Ada and stopped for a snack. Here too, as on the whole track, it was really obvious that the area was in a drought – the lake was low, just as the rivers and creeks and waterfalls had been. It was here that Steve shared a revelation with us. He had been making great progress all morning – much faster than his usual speed so far, and he attributed this to his realising that his paces were at the same rate as Bryce’s or mine, but they were much shorter in length. There ya go.

We continued on in the same independent manner, getting ever closer and making good time. The beautiful scenery wasn’t letting up though. We ate lunch in a lovely little pocket near the Giant’s Gate Falls, and soon after I stopped in a rockslide zone to get a 360 degree video of the path alongside the river wedged between two giants of mountains.
Not too much further along we came to the ‘1km to go’ sign. Buoyed by this we marched fervently on, and, after the longest 1km to go in history, we did actually make it to the final hut where we enjoyed a well earned load off and stuck into whatever food we had left.

2006-03-20T00:00:00.000+10:00

We made a cracking start the next morning, making better than usual time up the rest of the ascent, stopping at the top of McKinnon’s Pass to get photos of the monument there, and to admire the breathtaking view of the valley we were to descend to. After rueing the guided walkers yet again for the hot Milo waiting for them, we pressed on.
Nearby was the highest point of the trek, so another stop to show us on top of the track, and then on to Pass Hut for lunch. Lunch, as all our lunch and dinners did, consisted of three courses, and today we quite took our time enjoying them – especially the hot soup.
It was quite extraordinary weather that we’d had so far. The Milford Track is smack bang in the middle of the “Roaring 40s” and get anywhere from 6.5-7.5m of rainfall per year depending on where you are. But we’d not yet seen any rain, and the ranger at Mintaro Hut (night 2) told us that there hadn’t been any rain for 8 days before that, and they were going through a drought. Certainly there were lots of dried up creek beds, and we hadn’t yet come close to breaking out the wet gear.
So maybe it was a touch of excitement that led Bryce and I to get fully wet-geared-up after feeling some spots of precipitation just before we left. Steve wasn’t there to feel anything, and thought we were nutters, but it had been predicted to rain, and we felt it, so we ignored his mocking and kitting up anyway.

What had distracted Steve was the Loo with a View, a drop toilet that has a gorgeous outlook over the Clinton Valley that we’d just spent two days climbing along and up. Never before has such a routine task looked so good!

And so the descent began. It was slow for most of the way, but that suited us just fine. We crossed another large creek that was completely dried up – we could see the ice on a nearby peak melting and running into the top of this creek, but there must have been so little of it compared to normal that it flowed under ground (or under the boulders that made up this creek bed) where we were.

Further down the track we came across perhaps the most beautiful scene of ht etrek, if not the whole of NZ. There were waterfalls, translucent and colourful; trees with every yellow, green and brown in the spectrum; rocks that were smooth and rugged; and the entire scene was like something from a magical fantasy. There was moss or fungus or flowers everywhere – nothing plain or dull wherever you looked, as though someone had contrived every fine detail.
We paused in a few places down this stretch, stopping finally when we found a place to get down to the water and put our feet in. Stephen, never the one to let serenity or wonder soothe a nearby soul screamed like a high-school drama queen when he dipped his feet in the water, and for a good while after, and then repeated the process another couple of times.
Churlish buffoonery aside, I experienced a real spiritual time at this place – even recalling it now, 6 weeks later, I feel peaceful and at ease.

Revived, inside and out, we proceeded onwards, and after quite a while arrive at the guided tourer’s huts where we dumped our packs and headed along the side track to Sutherland Falls. IT was a longer detour than we initially thought it would be, but it was pretty cool when we got there. These falls are the largest in NZ – 580m(?) high, made up of cascading segments, each of them higher than the mighty Victoria Falls, though only 10-20m wide (at this ‘drought’ time).

Bryce and I got changed into our togs, removed our shirts and set off to go in behind the falls. We didn’t go far before we were shivering, and it wasn’t far after that that we started getting so cold we were clenching our muscles and breathing heavily and yelling out to try and keep warm. We both made it behind the falls screaming like delirious football fans, proclaiming to the world (that couldn’t hear us because we were behind these big falls) that we were great kings over it! On the way back out, HRH Timothy Schier fell on his bum, and from there out we returned to the cold and wet real world – invigorated, but cold and wet, from our heads to our … shoes. Oh no, whose idea was it to go behind the falls in our shoes? Off they come and around we sit for an hour, drying them out.

Hypothermia seemed to have been avoided, so finally we headed off towards our packs, and then, with the sun setting around us, on to Dumpling Hut for our final night’s abode.

The Dumpling hut ranger was relieved to see us, as it was well into twilight when we arrived, and we were well after everyone else, and even after his night time briefing. No worries but, we made fast work of dinner and hit the sacks.

2006-03-15T12:01:00.000+10:00

Day Two was when the trek got serious. The walking was 16.5kms up a steady incline tending towards quite uphill at the end. Our modus operandi for the entire hike was to take it easy, to stop regularly and to outright enjoy the scenery and experience as best we could. This involved wandering off the track a few times, to sit on the kinks of, or skim rocks on, or even sometimes dip our feet in the ice-cold Clinton River that we were still following. We stopped for lunch at the Hidden Lake, a lovely pleasant and fairly low lake with a small branching waterfall cascading down the side of the rocky hill bordering half the lake. It was here that we were able to first relish the large jar of chutney that Bryce insisted on, and we mocked him for.

After lunch the track started going properly uphill, and the scenery changed. Instead of the clear and open, sandy and bushy style we’d seen mostly so far, the scenery went through a sort of scrubby vibe to a lush green temperate forest, with moss growing over trees, and clover covering the ground, and in one place, even a whole mess of flower petals spread right down the path. Most of this was lost on Steve who was struggling with the walk and getting down and irritable over it. Not to worry, we eventually came to the 2nd night’s huts. We were the last one in and had taken the longest, but nobody else had tales of freezing water or resting by a lake.

That night at Mintaro hut we were starting to get to know more of each other, as a group, and the vibe was expectant for the next day – the big on, the money shot of the trek. It wasn’t the longest day by distance, but it started off by finishing Day 2’s ascent, crossing over McKinnon’s pass at the top, then a full descent to just above sea level. On top of this is a detour option to go and see Sutherland Falls – the largest in NZ. We all slept soundly that night, at least until I sat bolt upright in my sleep, introduced myself (“Hi! My name’s Tim”), make a joke or two about the word scroggin, and fell back into unconsciousness.

2006-03-15T00:00:00.000+10:00

Day 1 walking wasn’t far – just 5km to Clinton Hut. The first k or so was a wide path, with tractor trails along it – sings of the pampering the guided tourers pay for. Along our walk we three stopped fairly regularly to take a photo or a video of the gorgeous new scenery, mostly of the Clinton River and its water, as clear as crystal, and the bright greenery surrounding it.
Arriving at Clinton Hut without any stress, we found a whole lot of our fellow trampers decked out on the deck area between the buildings we were staying in. Clinton Hut consists of only a few buildings – two dorms, a kitchen/common room, and off the side the ranger’s hut and a small toilet block.
As we’d arrived fairly late, we were lucky to get three bunks near each other, and soon got stuck into making ourselves dinner. We had no trouble satisfying our hungers, with soup, instant dinners and even instant pudding for dessert. For some reason, perhaps to get into the outdoor vibe, we chose to sit outdoors for dinner, a move that wasn’t too bright, but turned out really entertaining for Bryce and I as we watched a very large swarm of sandflies swamp Steve – at one point they were so thick it was like looking at him through a screen, and the fit he threw was mad enough to keep Bryce and I amused for a while, even just remembering it later.
Later, over cards, we met a Kiwi contingent of the trek, mostly young blokes with a couple of girls and a top older guy called Ash Robson, who was both our chief antagonise and because also our primary antagonisee.
The sleep wasn’t bad – I got in a few hours more than what had become my norm, and soon enough we were up sorting out breakfast and being the last ones to leave the camp. Over breakfast we picked out the bananas we’d packed, only to find they’d gone terribly gooey and yuck. But everything you bring on the track you either eat or you carry out, so Robson took delight in watching us try and get these bananas down without reaching – alwas egging us “you Aussies – you don’t bring bananas in a backpack!”. The climax was the cheeky grin on his face when we caught him 5mins later sneaking a banana of his own (though his banana wasn’t at all mushy)!

2006-03-04T00:00:00.000+10:00

Jeez, it’s now nearly a month since I returned, about time I finished this off hey. Well, the only tale remaining to be told is that of the track.

It was an early rise, our last morning in Queenstown, to catch the first bus to Te Anau. I was really feeling it – wasted that is. Many nights of little sleep, days packed with action and adventure were finally taking their toll. We stood on the street corner where we’d been instructed to wait for the coach, and soon became a little nervous that we were only 15mins for departure, but there was no coach and no other people around either. I was so beat I hardly cared and was just leaning up against a wall trying to think straight. Steve wasn’t a whole lot better, but helped walk around looking. Bryce was the man – he found, down the street, the name of the shop our tickets were booked through, and someone nearby who quickly showed us where to go – one block behind and half a block down from our instructions – thanks ANZCRO. We made it with no time to spare, the coach had even waited for us thank goodness.

On the coach I slept, as I think each of us did. Soon we arrived in Te Anau, piled off the coach and went looking for the Department of Conservation hut where we were to pay for our transfers and confirm our places on the track. The walk from the bus stop to the hut was a bit of a wake-up call – these packs are not light! We paid our dues and then went to gather more info on the trek – a pamphlet and a video were on hand. We picked up a few points of info from these, mostly just some items we hadn’t thought to bring, but also a caution we’d heard before came through again – don’t wear cotton! It doesn’t dry and is heavy and cold when wet, and the Milford area gets about 7m of rainfall a year, so we were bound to get satched.
We left our packs at this hut and wandered back into town to buy supplies and lunch in the few hours we had before our next bus left. I had a woollen jumper, given to me by the wonderful David and Vicky way back in Johannesburg but the only warm clothes Bryce and Steve had were cotton. So we all (I) made a ruckus about it (“Cotton!”) and eventually they both wound up buying woollen fleece or poly jumpers.
Part of our walking around the town was past the great Te Anau Lake. This inspired us to find fish and chips for lunch – especially after our effort in Greymouth. We found a place along the main drag with a big sign on the roof proclaiming some of the best fish in town. In we pop and the friendly girl behind the counter tells us that unfortunately the fryer won’t be switched on for another 20mins, but if we really want the best fish experience around we should wander down the street to a place called The Ranch or The Castle or something, a pub-restaurant that serves it better, and it’s cheaper there too!
We were a little taken back by this spiel – it wouldn’t be everywhere that turned down your business and told you where to go to find something better. So off down the street we head, and sure enough, there is The Ranch, or The Castle, or something; a pub-restaurant that isn’t yet open. While waiting and perusing the menu a waitress steps out to start setting up tables. We question her about fish and chips and she is just as friendly and forthcoming as the last girl, and again is unable to satisfy our needs! The only fish on their menu is some gourmet meal that “costs $30 and it’s only a couple of bits!”
Our shock at this response was matched only by our ability to make fun of the situation. For our third attempt we tried a wholesome looking café nearby that looked open, and looked certain to not sell fish. Here we ate remarkably wholesome food at thoroughly cheap prices

I was still feeling tired, and was having to stop myself from getting grumpy, and to me it seemed too soon that we had to leave this easy, pleasant little abode and trudge back down to the Department of Conservation Hut for the bus ride to the ferry ride to the track.

We caught the bus, we drank a bottle of wine on the ferry (the last place to have it before we’d have to carry the empty bottle out of the track) and we jumped out onto the track that would define us for the next four days and three nights. This was exciting enough to calm me down; funny how quickly your attitude can change. But there was the thrill of uncertainty and challenge, and there was the freedom of isolation and independence, and the beauty of ancient mountains and virgin forest. And we were as set as we’d ever be and up for whatever would come.

2006-03-03T00:00:00.000+10:00

More than satisfied, we jumped the gondola up the mountain that overlooks Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu. The ride is gentle, even peaceful and the view up the top is quite pleasant. There’s a luge ride at the top too, so we three all had a couple of runs – on the basic track first cos we had to, then on the advanced track. Apart from having to keep an eye on your video camera that’s about to fall out of your cart, it was fantastic fun, ad not too unsafe if you know what you’re doing; the cart will lean right up on one side before going over, giving you heaps of stop time.
Bryce and I each had to stop on our way down the advanced track (lost stuff out of the cart) which put us in a great position to race the last stretch. He had the front position advantage, but I had greater speed. He blocked my way quite successfully, but the knocks and extra speed he picked up meant he stacked it just at the end of the track. I saw it coming and stopped without hitting him, and had a great laugh. Fortunately there was no serious damage, just some grazes down his leg.
We scooted over to the lookout points for some photos and again stood and appreciated the view for a while. Soon we took off down again and soon after that we were back with the Connections guys for celebratory farewell drinks.
It was of course, great to see these guys as again, and it was out last night. But it wasn’t quite The Same though, with us having been away for a few days and the new people who joined, and this was cool. We had a great time, a few of us sat up in one of the girl’s rooms for a while chatting and sharing some drinks. Susanne got tired and said goodnight and I stepped outside to walk her back to her room (which was next door). We weren’t there long though before I swept her off her feet and we ran off leaving behind only one of her jandals.

2006-03-02T00:00:00.000+10:00

The next day was 31st Jan, our last day in Queenstown, with all its adventure activities, and our last full day in New Zealand that we wouldn’t be on the Milford Track for.
Taking this into consideration, we opted to spend it all organising ourselves for the Milford Track. We ran around camping shops and supermarkets across Q’town and Frankton checking out prices and buying all sorts of gear we hadn’t thought of. It was quite frustrating and took longer than any of us had hoped or planned, but it had to be done. After getting everything together we packed our backpacks, took our luggage to our post-trek hotel, and returned the hire car.

Way back in Blenheim Bryce acquired a pair of sunglasses that he found in the back seat of the wine-tour van we went in. These monstrosities stayed with him up util just the day before now when he bought a good pair of polarised specs for the track (and his sail home to Aus on the Young Endeavour). So we were left with his crazy sunnies and, none of us having the heart to bin them, decided that the girl taking our hire car back should be the fortunate recipient of them. Somehow I wound up custodian of the beauties, and it was down to me to achieve the feat. Ended up that no amount of waving the things around triggered even a glance at them from this girl so I changed over to Plan B and craftily thought to leave them on her desk, preferably without looking odd leading over and without her noticing.
Success was mine, and it was poetic I thought that the glasses we so randomly stumbled across would be randomly stumbled across by their next owner too. This was great, but as we sat in the complimentary van in the driveway, this girl came out to tell us we’d left them. We all laughed and told here it was part of our plan to leave them and she was welcome to keep them. Her face brightened as she smiled the broadest we’d seen, and she left happy that she’d scored so well.

Back in Q’town we didn’t let the long hours of sunlight go to waste. Before taking the obligatory gondola ride we treated ourselves to a wonderful large indulgent meal at The Lone Star – another top recommendation. All three of us thoroughly enjoyed our meals, and the service from the quirky Maori waiter guy (who looked like he’d have been more at home on the footy field); I’d easily recommend this place to anyone else too.

2006-03-01T12:00:00.000+10:00

Queenstown, popular Queenstown. As we were driving through Frankton (a small satellite of Queenstown) we thought to look up our Q’town accommodation for when we’d return from the Milford Track. Steve read out “Sherwood Manor” and I instantly replied “oh, well that’d be it right there”, pointing out the window, and we all marvelled at the coincidence. We drove on into Q’town and found our hotel right in the centre. As we drove around to find a park Steve said “I wonder where the Connections guys are at” and I instantly replied “there they are right there”, honking the horn and flashing the lights at our old Connections coach driving straight past us. And we all marvelled at the coincidence.
Later on us three wandered down to the Rydges hotel where the Connections guys were staying. Masquerading as though we were still on the tour we enjoyed a cheap drink or two before wandering into town in search of great curry.
We found an Indian restaurant and were treaded to the most mediocre tasting curry any of us recalled, complete with lousy service and unpleasant reminders of the meal the following day.
Steve and I then headed back up to Rydges while Bryce went back to our room for some shut-eye. I met up with and spent some more quality time with the lovely Susanne. Queenstown’s lake is tops to walk beside, night or day.
Back in the room finally, I found the guys both in bed and looking like that had been for a while, but not looking like they’d had any sleep. And no wonder, right under us was a night club, and this night was Karaoke night. And we marvelled at the coincidence of us finding accommodation above the latest open club in the backpacker capital of the country, just on the two nights we most needed sleep.

2006-02-28T00:00:00.000+10:00

Wanaka was a major stop on the way. Here we did some initial shopping for supplies for our upcoming 4 day hike – or at least looked at the seemingly exorbitant prices, and then headed to Puzzle World.
What we figured would be a glorified kids playground turned out to be a quite cool and interesting place – especially for nerds like us, but I’d say there’s something amusing there for most people.
From the room where hundreds of faces on all the walls follow you as you walk around the room (their whole facts, not just the eyes), to the holograph room, to the slant room where you can sit of a chair and ride it uphill, it’s all a bit of fun. There’s also a large maze, where the idea is to go from the start to all four corners and then find your way back to the start again. Steve and I stuck together as Bryce was taking it fairly seriously. Soon though we were feeling competitive and we ended up getting around quickly, even beating Bryce. We were all good natured about it, but I’m sure there are people who get quite worked up. Unfortunately we didn’t see any biff.

After the mandatory tourist-holding-up-the-building-on-a-40-degree-lean photo we resumed the trail to Queenstown. All of our driving took second place to stopping for gorgeous countryside. At any random intervals along our journey we could be found driving down a beaten off-road track to put our feet in the turquoise translucent water of a glacial river, and goo-gooing at the surrounding mountainous scenery. I think this played a large part in how much we enjoyed this beautiful land.

2006-02-22T00:00:00.000+10:00

Our return chopper pilot was less keen to do tricks – apparently it makes him queezy. But he still obliged us with one though – a steep climb and then from the crest a drop straight down.
Back in town we had lunch with a couple of the girls from the hike, but needed have bothered shouting them (at least not for Bryce’s sake). We got in some sleep though, and then that evening jumped in the car bound for Fox Glacier where our mates from the Connections tour were having a karaoke night.

The road from Franz Joseph to Fox is windy and great for anyone with a half decent car to cruise around. We had to stop along the way however because of strange noises coming from the car. Quite embarrassing really, but we couldn’t figure it out so I just drove like a granny for the rest of the way.
At Fox we found the guys and got in and had some fun. The drinks were cheap (even if they didn’t have scotch) and soon enough we were up and singing our crazy little hearts out. I certainly enjoyed catching up with Susanne again too, and some of our outdoor antics caused some tittering and ribbing for a week or two to come.
Bryce “drove” us back to Franz Joseph, though I more credit guardian angels for returning us safely.

Up in the morning and we drove through Fox again as we made our way to Queenstown.

2006-02-21T00:00:00.000+10:00

The next morning our charge was to make it to the Franz Joseph Glacier in time for our heli-hike tour. We arrived with oodles of time and in high spirits after stopping off to see lots of the beautiful landscapes along the way and finding this hotel was particularly nice. Franz Joseph is a pleasant little tourist town with not a whole lot going on, but no over-the-top presumptions or glamour either.
The heli-hike was great! We asked the chopper pilot on the way up to do some stunts and he willingly obliged, making me grateful I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Flying over and landing on the glacier gave us a new perspective and a better indication of its size – these things really are massive sheets of ice.
We landed on the glacier, met by our guides and off we trekked. To be honest, although this was probably the highlight of the NZ trip so far, it wasn’t quite what I expected. It was a warm day in the middle of summer so it was a boon to be walking over and through ice at all, but I was naïve and expected more ice-cave walking just like the brochure and website photos. Not that the experience was any short of fantastic!
A glacier is an amazing creature, bordering on a living organism in the way it moves and change and affects what’s around them. Beautiful and fascinating all in one.

2006-02-20T00:00:00.000+10:00

The mud slide ride was sold to us as a nearly dodgy potentially dangerous activity. It was straightforward enough: walk up a hill and slide down on a matt over naturally smoothed rocks that were naturally coated in mud off a natural small ledge into a naturally shallow pool. Nature had also provided a set of hand-grips to help you shimmy across the slope to the starting spot, and a large low hanging branch near the bottom to keep you from coming to a stop on the soft dirt if you run off the slide area.

Our instructions were exacting and it was very clear that we should understand the risks before sliding. It was at this point that Steve and I thought the better of the whole idea, and decided not to slide. Bryce had pulled out long before (his mental abilities had allowed him to see that he was not up for anything like this), but us three watched every other bloke on the tour have a go. The Taiwanese guys were, again, in over their head – the first one doing exactly, to the letter, what we were instructed to not do, seemingly ignoring the demonstration and warnings, and was lucky to neither break his tailbone nor cop a punch in the mouth from Mitch (our guide) for being an idiot.
After the caving expedition we were treated to muffins and beer in a hot spa bath – quite sporting we felt.

At the recommendation of Mitch we went up to a place called “Parky’s” for fish and chips, a dinner Greymouth is renowned for. I can say with all certainty that Parky’s sells the single worst fish and chips I’ve ever had the displeasure of trying. We were surprised enough at first when we asked what the freshest fish they could serve us was and were told “nuh, it’s all frozen ey. We just thaw it and fry it!”.
Anyway, it was terrible, but we did actually eat some of it and we soon stopped our grumbling as we headed out along the drive north of Greymouth (the ‘Top 5’ recommended us).
This drive is really really beautiful. We stopped the car along the way, wherever we were particularly taken, and also at a circular path going out to the ocean where there were pancake rocks and blow holes. Our main aim through was to reach the end of the Truman Track for the sunset. We parked the car and hurried for the ocean. Just as we got close we saw a whole lot of people returning along the path oohing and aahing about catching the best sunset of their lives.
Disappointed but not quite disheartened we pushed onwards and were treated to a really lovely twilight, watching blowholes and admiring the colours and shapes in the sky.
After a short while we returned to the car while twilight still lit our way, and jovially returned to our Greymouth hotel.

2006-02-14T00:00:00.000+10:00

We were dropped back at our hotel, but not before singing our guts out in the van on the way home – everything from Billy Joel to the Australian national anthem. Luckily the British couple who were the only others on the tour were very patient and understanding.
Back at the hotel and remarkably sober we decided to play a round of golf at a crazily cheap 9-hole course just outside town. Off we went, and found ourselves in a cow paddock with flags on it. Still, for $5 incl. club hire, there’s no complaining. In style and with delicate grace we decimated the course, each of us eventually making it round, the only casualties being two of my balls (another $3), but I still managed to nab the trophy by a few shots – the first game of golf I ever remember not losing.
To the hotel again, and we snuck some kiwi television in before hitting the sacks – “Beauty and the Geek” was a favourite.

Next morn we hit the frog’n’toad on our way to Greymouth. The drive was pretty interesting save for the minor fuel scare, where we first nearly ran out and then nearly had heart attacks at having to pay over $1.50/L for it. Catastrophes averted we made it to Greymouth and checked in at the hotel. By this time we were experts at asking around for advice – this time we got the tip of taking a drive along the road North of Greymouth (towards Westport) which had recently been titled one of the Top Five Drives in the world by the Lonely Planet Guide.

That afternoon’s activities were already planned though – caving. Not exactly what I’d expected (it was like an expedition more than a ride), but quite personally challenging because I took the option to climb through a few sections of really tight areas. I’d never really had the opportunity to see if I’m claustrophobic so I was a little worried, but not for long. I think that bit of uncertain adrenaline I had made me enjoy the trek more. We did some tubing through a section deep into the cave, and then climbed out, stopping off at a couple of places on the way to drink some hot Milo, before going on to do some more really narrow sections, including one beauty of a rock called “Rebirth”.

The guy who led us was really cool, and employed one or two psychological tricks aimed at people who are either scared or unfit or just plain whingers. The ones I noticed were “on the way back we’ll take a shortcut, it won’t take as long”, and when going through Rebirth “it’s ok, I’ll get you through”. We were lucky that there were no people in our group who were really scared or whingers. What we had instead were some Taiwanese guys and girls who didn’t really understand English (or at least Kiwi) as well as they could have, and were often going on too far or turning the wrong way or something. It nearly became a issue when we were out of the caves heading back to the van and we stopped to do a mud slide ride.

2006-02-13T00:01:00.000+10:00

Early the next morning I had the lucky privilege to drive us to Blenheim over what would be a rally-driver’s dream course if not for the regular road-works. We checked in at Blenheim with enough time for Bryce to have another nana nap before starting a wineries tour around the Marlborough area.
The first place we stopped at was the best – St Clair. To the point where we even bought a bottle of their top wine – White Label Reserve Sav Blanc. The next place whose name escapes me (it was a NZ native bird…) had a quite nice Brut, but most of the rest blended together into mediocrity. We three did take one opportunity to sing in one of the cellars (Billy Joel: River of Dreams was our song – simply cos it was on the radio), but only after we roused Bryce from yet another snooze. The tour finished at Mud House winery which was also quite good actually – the only half decent reds we had all day. The kicker though was the shop next door – Preznels – that make their own spirits and at this shop give away free samples of them. Well Steve and I went to town, free and strange shots served by a cute (if 16yrs old) girl was a top, if tartish way to finish the tour in our minds, and we made sure to try everything they recommended – within reason of course, though we did let through the Screaming Orgasm.

2006-02-13T00:00:00.000+10:00

Air New Zealand are generous hosts, and perhaps the biggest drawback with Steve’s remarkable idea of replacing this flight path with a slingshot is that we’d miss out on the in-flight sustenance of a plastic container of mineral water. Oh well, not all plans are born perfect.
Arriving in Nelson there was, for the first time in my entire travel history, someone waiting with my name on a piece of card. The card read “Green Schier” and already I was starting to like the South Island. The girl behind the card was from the car hire company, who apparently don’t have an office at Nelson Airport. She took us outside to where the luggage truck would drive up the luggage trailers and gave us some forms to fill out. Bryce excused himself to go off and do whatever it is that Bryce does, while Steve and I, feeling heartily jovial, shared some jokes with the hire car girl, causing her to giggle, at least at us. The luggage trolleys came and went before Bryce returned, but he did make it back seemingly alright, and we were directed to our car. It was a late 90s Corolla hatch, with an auto box and no CD player, but it was our baby for the next week or so.
As we’re loading our luggage in I could have sworn I heard someone mispronounce my name over the PA system, and headed back inside to investigate, leaving the mocking of “where’s your wallet, where’s your iPod” behind momentarily, only t o find that I had in fact left this very journal {the book that I first write these entries in} on the plane. I secretly thanked Bryce for taking his time, and we promptly bailed into the car ready to rock and roll. As I started to pull away, I stopped and told Steve to ask the girl if she wanted a ride back into town. She told us No, and pointed to a lady sitting on a bench next to our car who’d taken quite an amused interest in us, saying “My mum brought me in”. Our laughter roared louder than the measly engine as we took off from the airport in an attempt to find our hotel using the barely adequate map provided for us.

We ditched the map idea and drove in what we figured was the general direction of the beach, or the town, or whatever the signs pointed us to. After a couple of bemused minutes we found “Beach St” and the place our Connections mates were staying. And just around the corner was our street, and our hotel not far down it.
The date was Jan 26th – Australia Day, and we three were keen to celebrate it in style. A few questions and an amazingly back-of-Burke search later we came to realise that there were no public BBQs to be found anywhere in Nelson, not even anywhere near the beach! Oh well, the backup plan was to use the hotel owner’s own BBQ that was set up on the front patio area of the hotel’s 1st storey. Great, a plan! Steve and I bail down to the supermarket while Bryce snoozes.
Supermarkets in NZ are strange. Canned fruit is not with the canned veges, half a dozen eggs come in boxes with a great big 7 on them, and single potatoes are stored in a completely covered box not near the bagged potatoes. These problems aside though, Australian wine is cheaper there than here, and a 6-pack of Fosters (a must surely for ex-pat Aussies on our national day) was a whole $7.50.
In no time we were laughing. We even bought beetroot and pineapple to go with the regular compliment of BBQ’d meat and veges, and we had a ripper, finishing off the night by falling asleep to Australia beating Sri Lanka in a narrow 1 day cricket match.
The bedding arrangement was interesting though. When we first saw the room for three Bryce asked “can we possibly have three beds please?” – they’d given us a single and a double only… and some mirth wa put into determining who they thought was whose bitch.

2006-02-09T00:00:00.000+10:00

We parted ways for the evening, me promising Susanne we would see each other again, and I headed up to my room. Steve was still awake and he told me Ash and Jamie had just left, and there was a knock on the door. Ash and Jamie burst in saying good on me and what happened and such. I stick to my traditionally tight-lipped guns, but we still had a good laugh at what I missed out on with the boys that evening.
So that was it, my last official night with the Connections tour. In the morning Steve and I would be free men, but that meant free to do everything for ourselves too.

Fortunately Steve and I are responsible grown men who can look after ourselves and don’t need anyone’s assistance. Except maybe in the case of packing up in time for checkout. We did make it though, just, and put all our gear safely away in the bowels of this hospitality monster (as mentioned a couple of entries ago), then hit the road.
Down the road we stopped off for eggs Benedict at The Ministry of Food – so nice I even remember eating it! Around the corner we found an Internet café and I continued the saga of my watch returning to me.
This is the same watch I lost only a few days earlier on the day trip from the Bay of Islands up to Cape Reinga. I knew where on the bus I’d put it, and had let the company know the next day where it was. This was good, the cleaners found the watch (right where I said, I guess), but somehow it was lost again when the bus went in the following day for a service at a garage. Right, well, the awesome adventure of finding my watch goes on. I gave them another call on this morning and they told me they’d be more than happy to reimburse it, if I could send them a copy of my receipt. Fortunately I still had it in my wallet – I’d only bought the watch at Brisbane Customs a week earlier and it was still in my wallet. So I scanned the receipt and e-mailed it off, trying to be nice and not upset or sarcastic in tone.
We then trotted over to the nearby NZ House of Parliament and after being rejected at the main entrance, proceeded to the tourist entry for a guided tour. After delaying for a bit until the tour actually started we went in and participated in perhaps the most nerdy activity of the whole trip – spending an hour learning about NZ’s government – everything from the earthquake proofing upgrades of the 90s to the room where the now dissolved Upper House sat. Works of art that take up large ex-car park rooms, stories of repeated fires and a few smart remarks from one disbeliever in the process made up this whirlwind experience, and I must that I didn’t mind doing it at all. We even got to pat the head of the lucky Thai elephant at the end of the tour, which is perhaps why, after taxing back to the hotel, we were fortunate enough to be able to actually get back or goods from the safe, despite the hotel manager’s apathy for our needs (again, as mentioned a couple of entries ago).Off to the airport, we met up with Bryce on the plane that would take us in 30 short minutes over the ocean (almost due west) to Nelson.

2006-02-08T00:00:00.000+10:00

The food, then, was great. The beer also well worthy of note. But the best part of that night for me was the company. After the meal and a beer or two Susanne and I left eh rowdiness of the crowd and went for our own wander. And wander we did, up hill and down dale, stopping for times at bus stops or park benches to rest our feet and legs, but the whole time we spoke, analysing psyches, sharing stories, making jokes, prophesying futures and even, when the chips were down and we were lost, there was a song or two in there. We spent a lovely evening together scouting the sidewalks in synchronised step, just simply a delightful time. It all happened slightly unexpectedly for me because I did actually think we’d head back to the bar some time before everyone had gone to bed, but by the time Susanne and I were back in a lift lobby at the hotel, holding each other to say goodbye, everyone was long since snoozing. Everyone that is, except for Ash and Jamie who made a grand entrance not far from us, thanks to the clap-trap racket of the service elevator (installed next to the main elevator, in the middle of the lobby, just behind a glass door), and did a nice job of giving me something to chuckle about and Susanne something to groan and sigh about.

2006-02-07T07:30:00.000+10:00

My electric razor (the bain of my personal manicuring) had long since died, and so at our next stop, which was at a “retirement town’s shopping centre” (the real name escapes me) I went to buy a new one, and succeeded in paying $50 for what was to be the world’s 2nd worst electric razor.
Before we knew about it though, we were in Wellington, the capital city of this fine country, and parting place of the tour for Steve and I. Sort of. Actually we’d done some investigating and found out that the Connections tour actually ran very close to our outlined plan for the South Island, and we had the decency to decide to crash their parties at every opportunity.

Our accommodation in Wellington was really very interesting. During the 1970s it was the flashest hotel around and there were photos all through the corridors of International Leaders’ conferences being held there. But apart from these two points it is quite the dive and I wouldn’t recommend anyone actually stay there, save if they really appreciate the smell of an old people’s home. OK maybe that’s a little harsh: the rooms are clean, and the beds are soft, but there are few things about it that are just downright inconvenient at best.
There is no Internet café within close walking distance, which made it a pretty poor choice for a backpacker’s place. The lifts are old, crusty and temperamental. The bar shuts at 9:30pm. And the people who run it don’t seem to have grasped one or two hotel fundamentals.
On our last day there Steve and I checked out and asked to leave our suitcases in storage and our passports in a safe. OK, luggage storage is no biggie, but the idea of using their one and only safe was new to them (as in how did we even know they had a safe???). The lady had to call the manager and he gave us a funny look before moving on a big friendly smile and cracking a non-amusing joke. He put our stuff in the safe fair enough, but the real trouble was when we came to grab it again. The lady at the counter looked at us a little oddly (and a little guiltily) and told us that the manager was out on a shuttle run and he held the only key to the safe. This was less than convenient for us, because we had a cab waiting out front to take us to the airport. The lady nearly started to become a little flustered, but was saved by thte sound of the shuttle van pulling up outside. I went out to try and hurry up the manager, explaining our position as he unloaded some people’s luggage. He was, once again, quite friendly and tottered in to open the safe. He said to us “I bet you guys were panicking a bit hey?” and I flatly replied that no, not really because we figured someone physically at the hotel would surely keep a key to the safe. He laughed at that idea – “of course not, all my wages are kept in that safe, I’m not going to leave the key lying around”. Steve and I thanked our hapless hosts and our lucky stars and got out quick smart. Anyway, enough about the hotel, back to our night in Wellington.

For dinner that night we all (still with the Connections guys at the mo) wandered down to the Shepherd’s Arms, a hotel with a great bar that serves great food. The bar is a Speights Ale House (Speights is a great South Island brewery) which really means it’s a building built purely so the kiwis can laud it over us Aussies with how good their beer is. Each of the different Speights I tried was really good, and I only tried about half of them. The food at the Arms was a good head above average; I didn’t hear a single word of anyone not being entirely satisfied, except if they wished they could have also ordered someone else’s meal.

2006-02-05T10:30:00.000+10:00

That night most people were pumped, because they’d done the rafting and then spent thousands of dollars on alcohol. Having a reputation already for being the party house, Steve, Ash, Jamie and I invited all and sundry to our place for an evening of festivities. We had to seconder chairs from other rooms to fit everyone in but we ended up with over half the tour in our room. For the first part of the evening I played the immaculate host, topping up drinks, service cheese and crackers and welcoming newcomers (“ah, come in, we saved a seat for you”). This was great fun as the evening warmed up, and then as soon as the party got swinging I took a large mug of scotch and my journal and headed two doors down to where I enjoyed light conversation and a movie in the background with the three hottest single (it not travelling with partners) chicks on the tour. Every half hour or so one or two of the guys from my room would come on down to see if they could joins us but somehow the conversation would then turn flat and they’d soon end up leaving again. Meanwhile I revelled in it and had a great time.
A couple of hours later the party died down and people went back to their rooms, and I left the ladies and did the same. Returning to the disaster area I found Steve and Ash still in full swing and Jamie along for the ride, so we all partied on by singing full ball to Hotel California (complete with 5mins of air guitar at the end) and John Butler Trio and the like. It was a fantastically memorable time, one we still recall fondly and probably always will.

The next day we hit the road to head to Wellington. It would be Steve’s and my last day with the group so we were sure to spend it as best we could on the coach. Steve by doing his thing with Ash and me playing pillow to a curled up Susanne. We stopped off at the Huka Falls on the Waikato River for a short break along the way, and then again for a longer break at Tampo for some bungy jumping. I was the official photographer for Ryan, the trips token Yank, who was at first uncertain, but ended up loving it of course. I dunno, bungy’s not for me. Not that I’m backing off from the adrenaline rush of free falling that far (see Africa), but I have had ankle and back problems in the past so I’d rather do something with a full body harness.
Back on the road, we made another stop at Mt Doom. Well, both Mt Dooms actually; there are two mountains (whose names escape me) that were used at Mordors peak, depending on angle and height of the shot and stuff.

2006-02-02T00:00:00.000+10:00

The next morning we wandered up the road to a Maori village called Whakarewarewa (pronounced “Fa-kar-rey-wa-rey-wa”) where there are hot springs, thermal geysers, and boiling mud pits. The weather was really quite dismal; overcast and rainy. Fortunately they provided golf umbrellas, but it meant that most of us could hardly pick up a word the guide was saying. This was more of a shame because of the chuckles and oohs and aahs coming from those who could hear her. We went and saw a weaponry and weaving display – sitting in the front row as a large angry Maori man swingle a purposefully crafted stick at you is a self examining experience. A little later, after a tour and explanation of wood carvings we were treated to a Maori song and dance troupe performing all sorts of Maori song and dance. I was the only member of our entire contingent with enough self esteem reserves to handle getting up in front of the crowd to participate in the Hokie Pokie. The video is ridiculously shameful, but I wasn’t quite a match for the old man next to me.
A pleasant buffet lunch followed, consisting of meat and veges roasted in a hangi heated by a thermal steam outlet. Quite nice full flavour actually, not at all like the sulphur that fills the air all over the town.
As our digestive juices were getting into full swing we headed off to the rapids of the Kaituna River, home of the largest commercially rafted waterfall in the world. Once again I was the odd one out, choosing to kayak instead of raft; the river certainly wasn’t wild for the most part so I didn’t think it would be a match for the Zambezi. It was their last day rafting before closing it though, so the kayaking was great fun.

The kayaks were dual; I sat in the front and my main man (also named Tim) sat behind me and ran the show. It was a shock for me at first, during practice, to be comfortable just sitting holding my breath underwater while Tim made the effort to right us, but once I was over that it was tremendous fun. Going over the waterfall we rolled it, which is par, but as I clasped the kayak my paddle got stuck between me and the kayak. Known this would cause problems I ‘sat up’ (or ‘sat upside down’) to get it unhooked. AT that time Tim tried to right us, but of course we only got halfway before we toppled straight back under. But now the paddle was free so at the second attempt we shot straight up in an instant; Tim being a little flustered as to the first failure. A little further down Tim started explaining to me about undercuts which are areas where the current flows into a narrow cave or under a ledge, and are places where it is very easy for a kayak to become stuck under; which often ends up being lethal for the rider. He then pointed past the next rapid and told me it went straight into a big undercut on the other side so we had better be careful. If we got too close I was to push us off the rock to keep us out of it. Right. So over we go and straight for the rocky outcrop. I hear a should for “backwards!!”, a totally new command for me, so I get my back into reverse paddling but my enthusiasm is upsetting the balance of the kayak so there’s soon a slightly more frantic cry for “stop!!”. I was about to stop anyway because the rocky outcrop was beginning to loom up, but Tim had control and we were soon to the safety of the open river again.
It’s only a small run, so we came to the end shortly after that. After going through the final rapid, Tim showed me the rafts paddling back into it, kicking up spray to make a for a great shot for the photographer standing there. No worries I thought and pondered a facial expression to pull. I needn’t have worried though because the water caught the front of the kayak and I was dunked, the nose pointing directly downwards. Tim later swore he nearly fell out, and the photos prove the kayak was dang near vertically straight up. A great way to top off the experience!

2006-01-31T10:30:00.000+10:00

Out of Waitomo and on the road to Rotorua, the most of the way Steve and Ash and Jamie were telling me how good their caving tour at Waitomo was. Called “Haggis Honking Holes” it involved quite a bit of abseiling, crawling through mighty tight spots, and a large climb out again. Jamie said he’d never seen anyone sweat as much as Steve on his climb out, but Steve was raving about it as the trip highlight for ages.

Rotorua smells. It literally does smell of sulphur, and quite badly across most of the town . You do soon get used to it though, especially when you’re shopping for copious amounts of alcohol like we were just before arriving at what would be home for a couple of nights.
The accommodation was Alpin Resort (no ‘e’ in Alpin) and was quite nice. We shared four to a self-contained room, the highlight of which was the hot spring tub out the back. It didn’t take us long that night before we had nine of us in there, trying to break the record (of 9). Desperate for someone to join us we all eyed off Jamie who was sitting on a deck chair refusing to come in. Luckily for him we didn’t force the issue, choosing instead to both to grumble about it later and get him to photograph us in there. Funny thing is the only photo I have is when someone (who?) was out of the tub looking for someone else to join us! Help me out guys - anyone else got a photo with 9 of us in there???

2006-01-28T11:30:00.000+10:00

That night we were left by half of the tour group; the tour sort of resembles a jump-on jump-off deal. We were joined that morning by 17 new comers and off we went, bound for Rotarua.
On board was a nice mix of new chicks and a couple cool new blokes too. As we headed towards Waitomo (lit: big hole [cave] of water) I sat next to Ryan, Charlotte and Susanne (whom I hung with most), all great folk.
Anyway, at Waitomo the caving and quad bike options seemed to expensive to me so I spent a few hours taking a nature walk through a lovely forest, followed by a viewing of shaving Angora rabbits, followed by a tour through a glow worm cave, topped off with a snooze in the park. The glow worm cave was really cool because its cathedral is regarded to have wonderfully extraordinary acoustics and has been used as a concert hall for opera singers, Rod Stewart, The Vienna Boys Choir, and others.
(The thing about caves though is that photos tend to turn out black.)

2006-01-27T20:00:00.000+10:00

Back to Auckland, and Base backpackers, but this time we had motel-like rooms, and I was endowed with a whole room to myself which was tops. As a group we went down to a nearby Thai restaurant for dinner and it was quite nice actually. After that a few of us went to try and head up Sky Tower, the highlight of Auckland’s skyline.
Unfortunately the tower closes at 10:30pm on Sunday nights so all we got was a shot of the outside. Up to the Base bar for a few drinks and a mini-bike competition!
I really wasn’t much chop for the dodgy miniature vehicles, losing my first round, but to Brian who came 2nd overall (2nd to Mel, also on our tour). After that heat I walked with Lauren up to where she was staying – quite away from Base, and uphill. After a friendly kiss goodnight I actually enjoyed the walk back to Base; Auckland is a nice cruisy place, even more so than Brisbane I think.
Back at the backpacker’s bar most people had gone to bed but Ryan & Mel, Meg & Julie, Victor, Brian, Jimmy and I stayed up until the bar closed and we were kicked out. On the street Meg & Julie (the cock-teasing dirty talkers) were keen to go out further but I didn’t want any of that so I headed finally to bed.

2006-01-26T10:55:00.000+10:00

We paddled to Haruru Falls, near the end of the river and jumped out at a campsite for tea and cookies. Here I met a beautiful Alsatian dog who saved a boy’s life, a lovely little story I captured on video.
After the break we were back in the water (this time I swapped into a single) and we went and paddled under the waterfall – right along the rocks so as to get dumped on by the water, a pretty neat little trick.
Back downstream was hard going because of the incoming tide and offshore breezes, but Loz and I still managed a good deal of stuffing around as well. Kylie our guide was also really cool, giving us regular good ribbings and helping Loz and I plan our dunking attack on Steve and Jamie. Unfortunately that didn’t eventuate cos we were too busy playing around ourselves and got quite behind the rest of the group. All in all the kayaking was great fun, and something I wouldn’t mind getting to later on if the opportunity arises.

After a few of us help up the coach while we dried off and changed clothes, we were on our way to Auckland again. Just a little before we left I remembered I’d left my brand new watch on the big yellow bus from the previous day’s tour (I’d taken it off to go sand-duning), so Jo our tour host (not Scott the tour leader) called Awesome Adventures to give them the details of where to look for it. And so the awesome adventure of returning Tim’s watch began.

2006-01-24T21:45:00.000+10:00

The next morning we were up early to go kayaking down a river towards the Haruru Falls. I went up the river in a double kayak with Steve, and it was good fun really. I tipped Lauren out of her kayak (well she was the most experienced of us) and spend half of the rest of the time dodging her.

2006-01-23T15:30:00.000+10:00

I managed a few short hours sleep at the backpackers before having to get up for the start of the Connections tour. I caught up with Steve, and over the next hour or few managed to amaze/bore him with stories of Africa. Soon we were on the coach heading from Auckland up to the Bay of Islands for a couple of nights. The accommodation is quite good compared to what I’m used to – motel as opposed to hotel or campsite, and the food too is intensively prepared, so we eat really quite well.
The Bay of Islands is really quite nice, similar to the Whitsunday Islands, but cooler, with more (smaller) islands and only slightly less picturesque.
Steve and I got on quite well with a couple of blokes we met in Auckland – an Indian Kenyan from London called Ash and a Scot called Jamie. First night in Paihia we went down to the local Woolies (“open til 10”) and stocked up on drinks, then went round to the girls’ dorms and invited them over. Of course after a few girls came over, most of the group was sitting on our front grass on chairs from their rooms, and a nice quiet evening ensued.
I fell asleep halfway through the dinner, in Steve’s bed out the back room, with the idea of being woken in an hour or two when the others would bring back some chicks from the “great bar place” our driver recommended. Turns out the place was a rust old ship and quite crap and no-one came back afterwards so I slept through til morning.

In the morning we chose to do a tour up north to Cape Reinga on a yellow bus with a mob called Awesome Adventures. We stopped off to see a big 500yr old Kaori tree, drove up sixty mile long “90 mile beach”, making sure to pull over for the Mercedes that was half buried in the sand – that far gone in just over a month!
We stopped again a bit further up at a big dune for some dune-boarding. This involves trudging up a large dune with a body board each, and then throwing yourself off the top. This is all good, except on our day there was quite a strong offshore wind that stirred up all the sand in your face, clothes ad most nook and crannies you care to ponder. This made the experience sill fun, but quite unpleasant, so not something I wanted to do a second time.
Next stop was a beach (Taputuputu Bay?) for a swim though, so we got to tumble-rinse ourselves in the Pacific. The surf wasn’t poorly shaped, but there were some ridiculous rips so we had to stay in close so others wouldn’t follow us.
The pinnacle of the trip (or at least the highest/northernmost point) was the visit to Cape Reinga, the far north tip of NZ. The spiritual belief is that the dead spirits pass through the ground of the long narrow land up to this point where they leave through the branches and exposed roots of a particular really really old tree there, and find their way “home”. What else is cool about this place is that it’s where the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea meet, and on our particular day, from the lighthouse on the cape, you honestly could see the different coloured waters (not from varying depths) and some white water foaming where the two met. A pretty cool sight to see – two large bodies of water colliding and joining, but not really mixing.
We turned to go home then, stopping off at a Kaori wood shop along the way. It was a pretty good day and our guide was great, I just wish I hadn’t left my brand new watch on the bus.

That night we went down to the nearby club strip for a few drinks. I met up with Nina, a Swiss girl I was chatting with on the bus tip, but ended up walking home with Lauren, and Adelaidian girl from our tour group.
It ended up being a really late night for a few of us back at the hotel though – we were up late playing stupid dirty-talk games with two of the more loser girls; terrible waste of time really, especially for someone in the throws of jetlag.

2006-01-19T12:04:00.000+10:00

{Random unrelated photo}

The flying was uneventful. There’s not even any sleep to mention. I flew Johannesburg to Hong Kong, and Hong Kong to Sydney and that’s all there is to it. Arriving in Sydney (which was just yesterday now) was the eventful part.
My old mate Lyndal picked me up, took me on a brief tour of Bondi and the eastern suburbs, brought us back to her place and went to bed. I picked up my sim card, stuffed around to get it enabled, and then tried to call Zimbabwe to find my lost video tape. This exercise was almost as fun as calling Australia from Botswana, but in the end I was successful in getting through, though nothing came up locating the tape. Steve (a good mate I’m travelling right through New Zealand with) SMSd me to whinge about the backpackers’ accommodation and then it was off to bed.

Lyndal and her roommate were up early and so was the freeloader crashing on the floor (that’s me). After they’d left I went for a wander to the beach, and along the way grew into quite a funk. Even at 8am people along the paths were quite unfriendly, without even looking at you, let alone saying G’day. Even older folk who, in my experience, are among the most talkative refused to make eye contact. On top of this I discovered I’d left my spare camera battery in Pretoria with Anrie’s family, and my current battery was dead. The weather was overcast and so Bronte beach wasn’t as pleasant as I’d hoped, and I was just feeling really down. The clincher for my funk was yet to come. On my way back to the house I came across what looked like the start of a bar-room brawl up on the road ahead. As I approached I watched as three people walked completely past without even looking, and as I got right close I saw that it wasn’t even two blokes, but one of them was a woman! As I stepped off the kerb to butt in the buy ripped the rear wiper off the back windscreen of the woman’s car, thrashed it against the car and threw it at her legs before grabbing her to man-handle her again. I said “Look stop it mate, you’re beating on a woman” to which he said “I am not beating a woman” but let go and started to back away cowardly. At the moment’s silence the woman started yelling that he never cares about anyone and such and such that make me think she perhaps wasn’t the best at avoiding violent confrontation. I looked at her while she got in the car and drove off, and the guy picked up some other plastic once-was-car-appendage off the road, muttering to himself.
I turned and left, feeling terribly depressed at the world as a whole being so contrasty. I’d just arrived from Zimbabwe where the “high people” were destroying families, communities and slowly the country, but the people as individuals were collectively the entirely friendliest I’ve come across {or did come across in the whole trip}. To see this then in my home country where the whole place is one great opportunity and this sort of activity happens openly in public just put me in such a massive rut. (Though sleep deprivation doesn’t help I’m sure.)

On my way over the hill from Lyndal’s place to the Post Office to mail some no-longer-useful stuff home I came across a Catholic church with lots of little old ladies on their way in for the beginning mass. In my state of mind I thought “why not, it can surely only help” so in I went. The service was far from simple, with lots of sayings (or mutterings) and mini-rituals all over the place, but it was somehow comforting and I left feeling somewhat refreshed and revitalised.
I mailed off a large box home, and went to a nearby Internet café to update these blog entries online. An hour later I thought to check my flight to see if it was delayed. To my sock and mild horror I found I’d made a terrible mistake.

Before I’d left I didn’t have a proper itinerary sent to me; the only info I had on my Sydney-Auckland flight was a flight number and a time. I took this time to be the departure time, but it was actually the arrival time, and so I’d missed my flight! In no time I was on the phone to my travel agent for another flight and as fate would have it the cheapest option was for me to fly through Brisbane! So ironic that I’d just sent mail there.
Oh well, nothing else for it. I got to see the family at least (and leave again soon too), the worst part wasn’t the inconvenience so much as the extra cost. Serves me right for not checking my proper itinerary while I was in Africa.

Well now, for the first time in quite a while this journal is up to date! We’re just approaching Auckland too, so here’s to a whole nother holiday in NZ!

2006-01-19T12:02:00.000+10:00

After some administrative work, I was off again on the road to the airport to return to Jo’burg and ultimately on to Sydney and New Zealand. Along the way I stopped at to buy some souvenirs and ended up getting rid of … er, exchanging a broken watch, a pair of pants, some mini-toy koalas, two pens and some small cash for quite a few wooden trinkets – only animals that I saw in the wild though.
Before long I was down in Jo’burg once again, the flight made all the more palatable by an extremely pleasant steward with a vibrant repartee and an open yet velvetly seductive voice. Even when he sprayed the cabin with toxic fumes as per South African regulations he did it in a manner that made you smile and feel warm inside.
At the airport, Anrie and her mother greeted me and we were straight back to their place. It was here that I realised I’d lost my first video tape! This was a crushing blow, I had about 50mins of great memorabilia on there, of stuff that I didn’t really take photos of too. Such a disappointment. I’ve since been calling hotels and tour companies trying to find it but I’m not holding out a whole lot of hope. {It has since been located, but it is at the discretion of Zimbabwe Post as to whether or when it might make it back to me}
Well the night did get better, we went out to a nearby bar to celebrate my imminent departure from the continent and we had an odd but great time. Anrie’s sister broke up with Anrie’s boyfriend on her behalf, and Anrie ended up getting with another old mate, and Antoinette came and left before I could really speak with her (not that I paid her a lot of attention), and Bryce came and drank with us all one last time, and we went to a seedier sort of place and I had a go at one of the guys with us for getting sleezy with Marisa (Antoinette’s sister) & some of the other girls, and I got with Marisa, and we finally left at 3:30am and Jana’s (Anrie’s sister; my ride home) boyfriend had a car accident and we went to help him out & calm him down and we finally got in at about 5am.
And we got up at 7am, but only briefly for me before rising properly after 8am. Over to the Sheraton to pick up my luggage that I didn’t take on tour, back to repack, put the boot into the girls and to the airport we go. Some short but heartfelt goodbyes, and I’m off.

2006-01-19T00:01:00.000+10:00

That night was our tour’s last night wholly together, so we had a big one! It was also Colin’s retirement and also his birthday so he had a huge one! It was bucketing down at one point and I had my back-pack with me and Abbey was keen to leave as well as worried about staying at her campsite. So we left, I escorted her to her place with the deal of her being able to crash at my room in the spare bed if her power was out. Her power wasn’t out so she went on in and I went on to my hotel. Before arriving I felt that I’d like to not yet go to sleep so I dumped my gear and returned to the backpackers where the party was still kicking and people bought me drinks upon returning!

Eventually I did actually go back to the hotel and sleep, but soon enough I was off again – this time on my way to a large section of gorge so I could take the plunge of the largest free fall along the Zambezi (at least near Vic Falls). At 70m it was larger than the bungy jump and the gorge swing on the Zambia side, and I was really looking forward to it! The idea was a 70m free fall straight down the side of the cliff, then a 95m pendulum swing out from there. Fantastic, sign me up!
Lucky was the guy who picked me up and we got out to the gorge and he took me through it a couple of times, telling me the different ways to jump off. After I asked again the options (backwards arm crossed, forward sky dive & forward pencil dive) he mentioned another way – do a handstand and then fall head first. Alright, we had a winner! And before I really had any psyche-up time I was up on my hands (my feet held up by another bloke) and Lucky was starting to whoop in my ear to get me off. There’s no turning back when someone’s gripping you like that so I counted myself down from 3 and plunged.
I don’t really know what I was expecting before I fell, but what I was expecting as I fell was imminent death, and boy did my scream give it away! Hearing it on the video footage is really quite funny – it’s not a normal “woooo-yeah” sort of scream, it really sounds like the person making it is going to die. Lucky says on camera while I’m swinging “Have to ask him what the problem was… perhaps it was too much beer last night”. Maybe it was, but rushing at an oncoming cliff base didn’t help! Anyway it was a mad rush and I’d love to do it again any time!

Flight DJ188
Brisbane --> Auckland

2006-01-19T00:00:00.000+10:00

The next day was big. 8am pickup, over the border into Zambia (incidentally where most of these farmers ended up thanks to the government handing out free land and free loans. Guess who sells Zimbabwe most of their maize now?). We were promptly decked out in life vests and helmets and sent with our paddles down a gorge and into the mighty Zambezi River for some white water rafting.
I’d opted to do half of it river-boarding, so two others and I were at first given two flippers and a board, and in we jumped! Before we even went through a rapid I was getting really stuffed just kicking around in the open water getting through currents. Going through the rapids on the board was almost just like being sucked through a dishwasher, but it was quite fun to be put through the ride. After a couple of runs on the boards we jumped into a raft, and then back on the boards. I really enjoyed the raft more, and I was also dunked quite severely by one rapid (lost my board, sucked down and just when you think you’re close to reaching the surface again you still can’t see it). After that I was dragged over to a big side pool by a whirlpool that took absolutely forever to kick out of, by which time I was so stuffed that I didn’t want to do the boarding any more. Actually all three of us boarders had had enough by then, and hey, the rafting was more fun anyway!
The rafting was far better than what I’d tried before in Austria – lots of Level 5s (highest level commercially raftable) and a good long run too. Towards the end the rapids got easier and we started doing tricks, like all sitting in the back and leaning as far back as possible while going through the rapid, to try and tip it over lengthways. We were also allowed to swim through some of the rapids – which I thoroughly enjoyed; more freedom than the body board and as much fun sloshing around as being in the raft. You could dive down before a crest, making use of the downwards sucking to pull you down a little more, and then the lifejacket would help to shoot you up the other side. Great fun!
At its best time of year (mid-late October) the Zambezi is rated the best commercial rafting in the world! On top of that, it has one of the meanest hill climbs to get out of it at the end – taking some of the people well over an hour to make. But the buffet of food and beverages at the top made it entirely worth it. And I’m informed we were lucky to get in as the first third of the rapids were closed the very next day because of dangerous water.

Flight DT233
Sydney --> Brisbane

2006-01-18T00:00:00.000+10:00

In Victoria Falls I had booked just the default accommodation that Kumuka used, the Sprayview Hotel, but for some reason almost everyone else on my tour had booked into Shoestring Backpackers. This suited me fine as I felt I could really use some downtime. I was quite low on physical cash; we’d been promised a stop in Kasane in Botswana before entering Zimbabwe but it had never actually eventuated. Money is important to get right in Zimbabwe, as you aren’t allowed to withdraw or change into any currency other than ZIM$ while there, but it is such a pathetically worthless currency that most activities and services prefer of even demand US$ or other major foreign currencies. I wasn’t aware of this either before arriving in the country so I found myself in a slight pickle. So, that first afternoon after seeing the presentation on the options for what adventure stuff there is to do I wandered down to check out the ATM facilities. The idea is to get out ZIM$, then change them either with mates or local money changers that get around, or if you want, the black market. OK, so at the ATM I find out that it only gives a maximum of ZIM$800,000 – that sounds like enough but it’s actually less than US$10. This was quite a blow because I needed millions of ZIM$ for what I wanted to do. I grabbed enough for dinner and left it at that.

I was really looking for a rest that afternoon, and was low on cash, but knew I’d be low on time over the following days so I pushed on and went down to see the falls. It was, of course, a great move and entirely worth the US$20 and all the time I had.
It was simply amazing to see so much water! At some place you could see the falls clearly and there was only a slight mist-fall in the air, but at most vantage points of the mail fall there was just a swirl of mist and spray that soaked everything. If only I’d been warned earlier I’d have brought wet weather gear, but oh well, being wet is a very minor complaint to have when you are walking around the Victoria Falls!
The falls are just magnificent to see and an absolute must to view if you are ever anywhere near them.

Dinner was at The Safari Lodge. The setting there is just fantastic, out overlooking a waterhole and plains, and in our case a sunset. I ordered Guineafowl Hors Dervs and the Warthog Fillet with some quite nice imported wine, and a coconut ice-cream sandwich for desert. I very highly recommend warthog as a meat, it really is one of the best meats I’ve tried – quite gamey, and with a wonderful texture. But everything else about the meal was great too, and all ten of us there (our tour plus some starting the next tour) had a great time until the bill came. We knew it would be some outrageous number, and it was: about $18,600,000.00 – but it took us literally 45mins to put the money together and count it up. It seems crazy to say “ah whoops, we’re still $400,000 short” but that’s how it happened. And even with pills of $20,000 each and some payment in US$ the pile of money was depressingly large. IT really highlights the problems of the country, and is quite the shame.

In Zimbabwe you do not speak out openly against President Mugabe if you don’t appreciate a quiet evening in a prison cell. But still I found chatting to taxi drivers and other locals they are openly sad about the current situation. About six years ago Mugabe kicked out of the country all the non-african farmers. They had the option to pack up and burn down their own homes, or to have them burned down for them. Within 12 months of the farmers leaving, the country was already importing maize (the staple); those to whom the land was given had no training or experience working land.
As the farmers left, they sold everything they could, and converted all their cash to hard US$ so they could take it wherever they went. This caused a massive devaluation of the ZIM$ (which not long before was stronger than the South African Rand), but one that Mugabe refused to recognise. He froze the conversion rate of US$->Zim$ despite the rest of the world and the black market having insanely different values – in the order of magnitude of thousands of times greater.
This absolutely screwed the country financially, and apparently most of it is still fairly inaccessible to cautious tourists. Many people, Colin noted, and himself among the first will be celebrating a very large party the day Mugabe dies.

In Victoria Falls the upshot of all this is mostly that everything is quite cheap. It is a wonderful little town – I didn’t feel threatened by anyone I passed on the street, even when walking alone in the early evening. And I got on just so wonderfully well with all the people I spoke to – from the concierge at the hotel to the security guards at the ATM to taxi drivers to random folk at the bar. If ever I wanted a good time to de-stress or find fun, I think Vic Falls is where I’d go first.

2006-01-17T00:00:00.000+10:00

It was nice to sleep in a bed for a night, and I even snored a whole lot less apparently. It still was a late night though and we were all up early for the drive to Chobe (Kasane).

Ah yes, the drive to Chobe. A few hours in, the truck pulled up without us asking (we’d normally ring a bell from the back whenever we wanted a pit stop) and we all piled out. Colin, the driver, felt something strange, and checked the front tyres – they were shot completely. One of them had an entire half of it balded, the other had eaten through the rubber into the steel meshing of the radial, and in one place through that to the rubber below! The day prior, Colin had the truck serviced and the wheels “computer aligned”. A quick measure with some twine showed the alignment was out by just over an inch! So Colin and I got to it.
It was difficult to adjust the alignment without a pipe wrench to turn the bar, but we eventually got it. There was only one spare wheel, but another was taken from the back wheels which were doubled up on each side (one wheel on the back could easily handle the bearing load of the truck in its current configuration). The spare wheel was up above the kitchen area at the back of the truck, about 2.5m above the road. To get the spare down we just climbed up and pushed it off and waiting for it to stop bouncing and rolling. Getting the dud one up – that was a mammoth job. We’d already spent over an hour under the truck, bolting and rebolting these great big wheels, but for Colin and I to lift this one, well, even the girls all stood up to engage in the spectacle. Just think about how heavy a wheel must be to bear the weight of and steer a 20 tonne truck (with load). Nat climbed up to the platform, Colin and I took deep breathes and hoisted. Getting it to shoulder height wasn’t too bad, but getting it above my head was really tough. As we’re both standing there, trembling under the weight on our heads Colin says “right, now we have to lift it right above our heads”. I told him that I was pretty darn sure that I couldn’t manage that, and we still wouldn’t reach. We called the girls to bring over some chairs (small camp stools that fold in half to pack down) but I told Colin I wouldn’t be able to climb that either (and he was quite a bit shorter than me anyway). Hmm. After a bit he hoisted his end a little to put it on an edge on the truck, climbed up on a stool and then came the big moment – it just had to go up.
1, 2, 3 and with a big surge of energy, sure enough I did manage to hoist the tyre high enough for Nat to get half a hand on it. Colin scrambled up the back and finished the flip and lift, but the day was mine, with steel mesh splinters in my hands and small but vicious ant bites all up my legs the girls clapped and cheered and swooned, and I was the hero from then on. (Until I accidentally burped out loud over dinner one night and lost every piece of noble standing I had).

On the road again, and an hour later we made a pit stop. I was just unzipping my pants when Abbie called from the truck to look up – there was an elephant not 30m away! At first I thought “Oh wow, that’ll be a nice view while I’m going” but it very soon dawned on me that I was in quite a bit of danger, as he was staring right at me and actually started to move towards us. I yelled over to Nat who was making a quick dash for a bush, and she skedaddled quick smart, as did I. Plenty more bush down the road.

And so it came to pass that we reached Kasane, quite late, it was all we could do to throw some foodstuffs together in an esky and jump on the truck that was taking us down to the safari game cruise along the Chobe River.
It was a really nice cruise, we saw bachelor packs of elephants mucking around in the river, a large group of hippo, a mother crocodile nesting, lesothos, fish eagles, pied kingfishers, other sea birds and some cattle. Yeah cattle: along one side of the river is the Chobe national park in Botswana, and along the other side is private land in Namibia. There’s even an island in the middle that the two countries are still arguing over.
That night was our last in tents for the tour, and I can’t say I was disappointed about that either. Up early in the morning we went on a game cruise through Chobe National Park in a safari truck. Our guide was great, Leash and Loz sat up front and worked on him to see if we could find some big cats (there are lion and leopard in the park apparently). So in between the copious numbers of baboon, impala, hippo and elephants he’d stop the truck whenever he came across paw tracks, and even followed them back and forward. Right towards the end as we were heading towards leaving the park we stopped next to another group who’d found one of the two lion prides in the park. After finding out where they were we were off, and off the beaten path too, in 4WD mode and all. We found them soon enough, and we were all stoked to see wild lion. They certainly weren’t phased by us at all though, which I found slightly odd; they looked right through us as though we weren’t there. This was great though, a real highlight of the trip. We found out on the way back that the driver wasn’t actually supposed to leave the roads, so we tipped him quite well at the end.

That was it for Chobe for us, we jumped on the truck and off to Zimbabwe we went.
The border was interesting, after leaving Botswana and just before going through the gate into Zimbabwe, some guy off to the side in some home-boy jeans and dodgy shirt hassled us to see our passports and receipts for the visas we’d just bought. This guy had no ID or even official pose or demeanour. We followed Colin’s lead though, and did what he asked. He slowly but properly checked everything was in order and asked us what was in the truck. Colin answered not untruthfully, but didn’t mention the blank CDs and DVDs that were being taken into and through the country because they would be taxed of seized or some such weak excuse. He and Nat said to us it wasn’t really smuggling though. Hmm. At any rate this guy was too lazy to check for himself and he waved us through. “Let’s go throw ourselves off things!” Colin cried as we climbed back into the truck.
CX748 Johannesburg --> Hong Kong

2006-01-16T13:50:00.000+10:00

We didn’t’ take the early morning walk option the next day; soon after we woke and ate it was pack up and ship out time. Another two hours in the mokoros and an hour and a half in the safari truck and we were back at Camp Sitatunga in Maun, just long enough to settle our bar tabs and reload the truck for the drive to Gweta.
I sat up front with Colin (the driver) to escape the girls and enjoy some male company and an FHM magazine. That night we stayed in a nice campsite in Gweta, and most of us upgraded our tents to a nice cabin. In the bar before dinner I had drinks and conversation with a couple of racists.
They were the owners of the campsite, originally from South Africa, and we started up with some friendly talk about Moreton Bay Bugs which he just loved. What did raise my ire was them telling us about the “blacks”. She told us the story of how their daughter in Australia met a random woman on the bus whose daughter and friends were travelling to South Africa. Of course the campsite owner’s daughter dobbed in her own parents to offer accommodation and a base for them there. She told us frankly how when these Aussies arrived they were upset to hear terms like “the blacks” but how at the end of the trip they themselves were cussing them and using all sorts of terms themselves.
I shortly excused myself politely and went to find more wholesome company. I pondered the obvious open generosity of these people and how it contrasted such a dark streak.
It was nice to sleep in a bed for a night, and I even snored a whole lot less than in the tents apparently. It was still a late night though, and we were all up early in the morning for the drive to Kasane.

2006-01-16T08:30:00.000+10:00

Later in the arvo I had another crack at the mokoro and in another 15mins I could go further than where we were allowed to go, in a straight line without hitting any reeds, and do manoeuvres like U turns in open water and parking on the shore. Great to have another skill to add to my resume.
In the late arvo West and Frank took three of us on a mokoro cruise. It had just showered so the other girls didn’t want to come for fear of getting wet (…). It was great – soon we spotted a single bull elephant and West took us towards him. We pulled up and stood in the boat and watched him drink and graze and wander right across our field of view hardly 50m away. As West was explaining about single bulls that somehow know where to roam to find females and how agitated they usually are when they do, the bull decided he wasn’t going to let us watch him any more, and he turned to face us, and opened his ears at us. West quickly called “get down!” and we all dropped in the boats, Frank and I first because we were wearing white and yellow – not good to wear in front of an elephant. At this the bull was satisfied and he turned back around, resumed munching and strolled away. A memorable first encounter with a wild elephant!
We pulled back into camp and not an hour later the sky fell. It was great thunder and lightning and masses of rain that just wouldn’t let up, so we had to make a run for the tents in the rain and try to best sleep through such a storm in a tent. I think someone said it stopped at 3am, but the campsite was flooded in the morning. Welcome to the Okavango Delta.

Sprayview Hotel, Victoria Falls
Zimbabwe

2006-01-14T18:25:00.000+10:00

It was a great walk, not too hard going and we got to see a little wildlife, the highlight being a herd of hippo in an area around the other side of the island. These were wild hippo and we were not 15m from the edge of their water. They spotted us of course and most turned their beady eyes towards us and they started making aggressive grunting and throat noises. One of them yawned at us, which is their way of showing their teeth and that they better not be messed with. Well instead of reading between the lines and leaving these lethal animals, we stayed right there, still following West who was telling us softly how the mother hippos often hide their male offspring from the single (dominant) male of the herd to prevent the dominant male from killing it off. If the young one makes it to a certain age he will challenge the dominant male for the herd; hence it’s not uncommon to see solitary male hippos around. Shortly a few of them seemed to warm to us and one of them even swam right across our field of vision and emerged from the water on the other side of the water. It wagged its little tail rapidly side to side, which is cute but part of its defecating procedure, yawned at the world in our general direction and hung around for a while.
None of has brought cameras on the walk because of the rain, but boy were we sorry after this display. We headed back to camp and enjoyed a lovely couscous beef & veg dinner before falling asleep nervously to the grunting of a hippo that was considering grazing through our campsite.

The following morning we were woken early to go on another game walk. This was twice as long as the previous one, and lasted for about 3 hrs. We saw baboon, different types of bok and birds, and visited the same hippo hole with cameras this time, but they seemed tired from the previous night’s performance and were fairly reclusive and unthreatening. Tired, but on a high from the walk we returned to camp. It really was hitting home, the concept of being in the African bush, living in tents and visiting the local animals. The scenery was superb. The sky is always amazing (and that’s an understatement!). The water was drinkable (luckily because Nat forgot to pack the drinking water) and it was just a fantastic experience. After lunch I decided to give poling a go. West gave Abbey and I each a boat and a pole and some minor instruction, and off we went.I had a great time! After about 20mins not only had neither of us fallen in (much to the disappointment of the onlookers who’d gathered with cameras like vultures with cutlery), but I was already picking up the basics – mostly how to steer in either direction throughout the length of a single stroke. The sun was beating down on us so we retired to relax in the shade for a while.

2006-01-12T00:00:00.000+10:00

Bryce left for Pretoria that evening and the next morning Daniel, Vicky and I were up early to get back over the other side of town where the tour left from.
Vicky and Daniel were wonderfully generous people. I had only met them at Christmas time when they were in Aus, and we spoke for a total of about five minutes and less than two weeks later I’m staying with them and they’re driving a mate and me around the countryside. It was also fascinating to talk with them about the state of the nation so to speak. Both of them are obviously compassionate towards the native Africans, and genuinely not in a pious pitiful way. They live simply (the only place I saw without a security fence!) and follow grand aspirations yet are warm, genuine and friendly.

Well on to the tour. The three ladies who started with us and I were all real sleepy on the first day’s drive so we kept to ourselves and slept for the most part. We stayed our first night in a cam called Camp Itamula, after crossing over into Botswana. None of us were hardcore campers or had even been at all in a while, so we took a while to set up our tents and stuff, before heading to the bar.
Next morning after a slow pack up it was back on the road towards Maun “the Gateway to the Okavango Delta” and camp Sitatunga. There we were met by the final “hot bitch” of the tour – Abbie, who had a cancelled flight keep her in Australia.
Camp Sitatunga was to be our base for a two night hop into the Okavango Delta. That trip wasn’t going to start until the next morning though so it was to the bar once again for cheapish drinks all round. Some of the girls had a big night, but it was going to be a cruisy morning. I didn’t have a big one myself, but had a few goes at calling my sister Emma for her 18th birthday. The phone just wouldn’t call out but late in the night I did get onto mum to pass on my greetings. See, it does work, you just have to spend hours at the bar while trying.

We were up fairly early, packing an absolute minimum of clothes and gear into a day back-pack before jumping into a safari truck for an hour and half drive out into the delta. The truck had free air (in your face at 80km/hr) and complimentary snacks (if you opened your mouth as they flew past). We drove through Maun and then out 4WDing for an hour or so before pulling up at a bit of a clearing surrounded by what looked like grass, but was actually like reeds growing in the water, and at the water’s edge was a couple of dozen mokoros – wooden dug out canoes (made from either the Marula or Sausage tree depending on who you ask).

In we hop with all our minimalist belongings, hoping that the boat won’t tip and destroy our cameras. Joining us for the two nights are polers – guides who have grown up in the delta and have studied to learn all about it. Using long poles they push the mokoros, not unlike gondolas, along the narrow water channels between the reeds. We sat two per mokoro and just lay back and enjoyed the view for a couple of hours. Nat (our tour leader) and I were in with West, the leader of our band of polers. The water was shallow and clear, the weather was warm and the theme was relaxation.
After a while the mokoro stopped and we jumped out at what was going to be home for a short time. We inspected our severe sunburns and set up camp. The polers also camped with us; we had a great time together. They started out by making a fire, setting up their tents and digging a toilet hole before most of the guys in the group disappeared leaving a young bloke and the lady. After a little while we guessed it was going to rain soon so we started making plans about putting up the big tarp we had brought along.

What a shemozzle. We only had a large tree, two solid broken off branches that were poorly shaped (cut for firewood) and some pieces of rope. As the young poler (I.T. was his name) watched on keenly we set about our plan for where to put the top and how to secure it. I climbed the large tree part way up, and we started to think about how we could “lean” the branches against other trees of else dig huge holes.
Before we were too far along West and the other guys returned with freshly cut narrow tree trunks and a plan. They got to digging holes and tying down the tarp and in no time they had set up a wonderful structure and also enjoyed the stories IT was telling them, no doubt of the dump tourist bloke scaling trees and plans to use the firewood as structural support. Not the last time they’d get a laugh on us; they must have a great job!

Sure enough it rained, and just as is the case with half the storms in Africa it only lasted a short while and was gone as though it was never there (the other type lasts for hours and floods everything even close to being out in the open). After the rain we went for a game walk around the island we were camped on. We walked single file through the bush, West leading and Frank & Johnny tailing. We were told to ask questions any time and it was taking this cue that Laura stopped to ask what a particular stalk-like plant was. Some of us looked at her a little strangely and West was at first perplexed but then stifled a chuckle as he answered “grass”.

On the Kumuka truck, Maun --> Gweta

2006-01-11T00:00:00.000+10:00

We sat down to a lovely lunch, watched some of my holiday video footage and then went out shopping. We first went to a very large building the size of a small shopping centre that was one shop aptly named Makro that was like a Coles and a Target and a Bunnings all in one. It's supposedly hugely cheap, but to shopt there you need a (free) member card.

I picked up a sleeping mat and head torch without the assistance of an amazingly unhelpful retail assistant and we headed for the checkout. I plonked my stuff on the counter, said G'day and the checkout dude ignored the stuff, smiled at me and made a funny symbol with his hands. I turned around for some cues from the locals and Vicky noticed he was asking for the member card. It soon triggered that he was a deaf mute (the lip-reading and silence gave it away). I thought this was a nice idea - haven't seen anyone in retail before who was a deaf mute. Anyway I paid and we headed off, but before we were even outside someone said "where's your stuff Tim?". I slapped my forehead and turned to go back and coming towards us was our checkout dude running and waving. It was really quite amusing, at this guy's expense unfortunately. We retold the story to eachother on the way to the car and Bryce sang some Three Stooges music and I felt bad at causing this guy some embaassment. He wasn't the slightest bit perterbed when we saw him though; he probably had a great chuckle at my expense.

I still needed a mosquito net (or so I thought at the time) so we went 15mins up the road to a large shopping centre, to a camping shop. Vicky and I asked the help of one sales guy who said he'd meet us down the back where the mosquito nets were. By the time we ambled over Dan & Bryce had someone else there helping them. The first guy came up and said "thanks Andrew" wanting to score the sale I guess. He stood infront of the wall with the nets on them and looked around quizzically. He turned to ask Andrew where the nets were and Andrew pointed right over his shoulder and said there they were. The first guy grabbed one a little sheepishly and siad "it must be these pills I'm taking." Out of empathy I thought I'd follow the joke and with a big grin told him that if he wasn't on any then he should be. He looked at me with even more puzzlement than the wall and said that no, he w actually was taking pills. I felt like melting into a little puddle, apologised profusely and we left the shops as fast as possible before I raised all of Johannesburg's medically challenged against me.

Daniel drove us far far away ("shame") to the ____ ___ Botanic Gardens. These gardens are lovely, with tiny manicured lawns, an open area with a stage where free concerts are held every Sunday, and right down the back, a waterfall. We huddled indoors over milkshakes and Appletisers for a brief "thunder shower" and then wandered down to the waterfall area. Beyond the "No picnicing allowed for the good of the environment" signs were some happy campers sitting in picnic chairs and drinking beer, perhaps thinking they'd get off on a technicallity because they didn't bring a picnic basket. The waterfall was lovely and it would have been nice to do the walk up it, but we had to get motoring.

From the falls we drove to the opposite side of town to the backpackers where my African Tour's pre-tour briefing was held.
I was surprised to hear that on the tour was myself, four girls, the tour leader and the driver. At first I gave off a whoop, but I soon got to thinking that there was an equal possibility that it could be heaven as it could be hell. We had the pre-tour briefing with only 2 of the girls and I; such a small group.

After that Vicky, Daniel, Bryce and I were cruising back to Daniel and Vicky's place when we decided to stop off for dinner at a place called Monte Casino. This place is really cool. It's a massive fake Italian village entirely enclosed, where you can walk between recreated day, night and everything in between. Cafes and restaurants make up all the houses and wandering the streets are musicians, dancers and clowns, and in the middle is a casino. The whole place takes a little piece of reality away and replaces it with a good dose of fantasty: an escapists delight and an escapist gamblers bain.
We headed over to Steers (?) a traditionally Saffa family restaurant, similar to Sizzlers but with top food and an American Indian theme. We enjoyed a great steak dinner with lovely wine.

2006-01-10T00:00:00.000+10:00

While I was waiting for Bryce to try on his suit I realised that I'd lost my Australian sim-card the previous evening. I used my S.A. sim-card to ring the Vodafone number for overseas assistance and spend 20mins pushing buttons trying to find a way to get assistance or somehow cancel my card. All of the options I came across played a mesage saying that the office had closed at 8pm (I was barely 5mins late). Before I could try another number, I ran out of pre-paid credit so I tried with Bryce's phone, but had not further luck; the numbers I had didn't seem to be for 24hr assistance. So I rang Anrie and asked if she could look up online what the number was. She called back later with the number, but it wouldn't dial from Bryce's phone. I went to an ATM and got more money so as to buy more credit and tried, but again nothing came from it and again I wasted all my credit. In the meantime we'd reached Vicky & Daniel's place so I used Bryce's phone to call home, give Lara all my personal info and left it with them. Turns out now it's all taken care of and my sim-card will be waiting for mein Sydney. So at the time I took faith in my fam and enjoyed a great time with Daniel & Vicky.

An island in the Okavango Delta, Botswana

2006-01-08T19:15:00.000+10:00

The next day (6th Jan) Anrie's other sister and her boyfriend took us to the Lion Park. This place is great, there are pens with baby cheetas, jackals, warthogs and hyena and one pen with lion cubs in which you're allowed to pet them. It was near the middle of the day so the cubs were really sleepy, but we still went in and gave them a good pat. I didn't exactly use a delicate touch with them and my white cub was soon up and perky and suddenly swung around and snarled at me. I jumped a bit but thought he was just being mildly playful or perhaps burping. The second time he did it though there was no mistake and he then up and wandered away to plonk himself down again away from any disturbance. We fed giraffe, took a squiz at the ostrich and zebra and then went for a drive around the main park areas, spottng a few different bok and birds along the way before heading into the lion areas. In each of the 4 areas we drove past a pride of lions, some of them really close. I scored some great footage of a lioness 2m outside my window (the rest of the car starting to freak that I had my window all the way down). In another pride a male lion was even closer to Anrie and her window was half down so I could shoot out it. The lion decided to stand up and the self-preservation in Anrie reacted lightnng fast and her window shot up quick smart, amusing the rest of us somewhat, and passing unnoticed by the lion.

Leaving the lion park we drove past a sign to the Cradle of Humanking and thought we'd pop in. The first sign we followed ended up being to a restaurant with a mildly disgruntled guard who shooed us away down the road. We found out at our next sto that the cradle is actually a large area like a national part and we'd been driving through it already. This was good enough for us so we cruised on out and over to Hartebeespoortdam. Here we sat and enjoyed a drink (double-brandy and coke as is then SA standard) and garlic snails. The snails were really quite nice, though there was tonnes too much cheesy sauce.

That night was a bigish affair at one of the partyingest clubs in Pretoria. I moved out of Anrie's family's place and into Bryce's (my Aus mate from Brisbane) room at the Sheraton. Gee Pretoria's Sheraton in swanky! After dropping my gear off there and picking up Bryce we were off to Drop Zone just in time for Happy Hour. While we were getting into the swing of things we racked the balls up for a game of pool or few. A few hours later Bryce and I were 8 games up, with no losses against all comers! The theme of the night was "Aussies can't play pool". After that streak Anrie dragged us up onto the dance floor, and we all boogied the night away before we were dragged off and dropped at the Sheraton.

One fine but short night's sleep later I awoke to a stunning view of the Union buildings from Bryce's room's window. I'd stayed with him because he planned to drive to Jo'burg in the morning (and there was an influx of family at Arnie's place) and so we hopped it.

On our way into Jo'burg Bryce decided he should stop off to look at a suit he'd ordered. It was a bit out of the way and certainly not part of the instructions we were given on how to meet up with my friends Daniel & Vicky. To make matters more interesting the tourist map we were given was small and vastly inadequate, and we kept encountering amusing traffic along the way (eg lanes that suddenly become narrower than a car's width). So in no time we were jovially lost, though not for long, soon Bryce recognised something and were able to ask someone for specific directions.

Camp Itumila, Botswana

2006-01-06T07:25:00.000+10:00

Well yesterday we got stuck into the whole tourist caper. Early in the arvo Anrie, Anrie's sister Sanet and Sanet's boyfriend Leon took me to see the Voortrekker Monument, a building built in memory of the Voortrekkers (pioneers) to mark where they stood to make stand against the British and indigenous tribes in the mid 19th century.

The story is quite interesting - the Dutch settled South Africa in the 1600s, but only around the cape, because they were mostly only interested in it as a great place to set up a port for shipping from Europe. A couple of hundred years later the British decided they wanted the cape and came to settle there too. To avoid war the Dutch (Boer - meaning 'farmer') people decided they should move on and they pushed inland, thus becoming the Voortrekkers.
They had some battles with some African tribes, and some peace treaties, and one peace treaty with the Zulus that led to the betrayal and slaughter of the Voortrekker's leader and many of the men, women and children. And somewhere along the way diamonds and gold were discovered and so the British pushed them further away so they could claim the that too. The Boer war broke out around the turn of the 20th century, the British were the organised side building forts and the like, while the Boers were really like underground guerillas.
Before one of the great battles (not sure if it was against native Africans or British), the Boers made a vow to God that if they would win the battle that day then they would forever commemorate that day in thanks and praise. They did win, and now the "Heritage Day" is still commemorated on December 16th every year.
Inside the monument there is a small hole in the high ceiling and a large stone block laid down in the basement level. Every year on December 16 the sun shines through the hole in the ceiling and onto the words on the stone that say "For you, South Africa" (in Africaans).

After looking around and through the museum, we briefly checked out a British fort and then drove through the centre of the city over to the Union buildings which were built (by the British I think???) to run the country from. They have a nice stately design and love lovely gardens out front too. The daily early-evening thunder storm told us it was then time to head home.

During the arvo, as we drove around Church Square in the centre of town a guy started whistling to us and pointing. I asked Leon (the girls were in a separate car now) as we drove past what that was about and he said the guy was directing us where to park, after which he would ask for a fee. I said that sounded a little daft because there were parks everywhere and anyone could see them, so there's no service being offered. Leon agreed but made that point that it was worth paying still just in case you returned to your car to find it scratched.
When we arrived at the Union building there was another guy again trying to point us to park. Leon parked just before we reached the guy, but he still came over to us. I didn't catch everything he said, only heard some phrases like "it's not a demand, just a request". Noone gave him any money then, but when we returned to the car he was over to us again, this time telling us he was begging for money, saying he was already 19 years old and still being oppressed. Sanet gave him some change and Leon passed comment that he should change his sotry and we left.

On the drive home neither car was really sure of the way to go, and we ended up getting split up. Leon and I wound up driving straight past a squatter area (called Mamelodi), a slum-like place that squatters have just taken over and started to camp on, and then to build dwellings on. As we were coming away from the area I mentioned I'd like to get a video next time we happened to drive past one of these areas. Leon said I'd be fairly hard-pressed to find someone to drive me past there again! So I scored a little video of what I could.
Just after that, my phone rang and Anrie asked where we were and Leon said to tell her we were in Mamelodi. It was only when I heard Anrie's shrieks that it hit home the seriousness with which this is taken. She asked if we knew where we going and I said we absolutely did - straight out of Mamelodi!

It felt weird in my previous entry to be talking about "the blacks" in that way, so in this entry I was sure to not mention any colour term. But as an interesting experiment, what colour did you assume each of the people in the stories were? That's all to say, except that if you thought stereotypically then in this case you would be correct.

Anrie's family's residence

2006-01-05T10:10:00.000+10:00

Yesterday morning at 6:30am I touched down in Johannesburg to the friendly faces of Antoinette and her Riaan. Outside was a comparatively miserable 18degC and overcase with drizzly rain. Apparently I've managed to hide the best of Pretorian weather so far (yes me, the weather master).

Riaan drove u to Antoinette's place where I met her sisters, watched some cricket (Australia vs South Africa - they actually have a chance of beating us in this one), ate a bit, napped a bit and generally hung around.
We went down to a large nearby shopping centre nicknamed Mordor to buy me a sim-card and check the place out. The place is quite simiilar to any Australian shopping centre and was just massive. Apparently currently or recently held the title of largest in the southern hemisphere. They pointed out to me the jewellers that was help up just a couple of weeks ago. Not a typical hold-up as we might think of it either, but men with AK47 assault rifles cam in, got what they watned and have so far got away scot free.

Later in the afternoon I was whisked away to Anrie's family's house where I'm staying for a few nights. I'm really enjoying staying here so far, the family are loads of fun and good sports and full of great advice too.

Last night Anrie organised a "big party" for me at a bar nearby. I think the quote was "if everyong invited comes and they all bring friends then it will be big". There were probably about 20 people there during the night, including Bryce, a good mate from Brisbane who's over here with work.
I thoroughly enjoyed the conversations that night, getting a totally foriegn perspective on a fairly foreign problem. It started with people asking me how I'm finding Pretoria so far and how it compares with where I'm from.
The countryside and climate are quite comfortable and fairly familiar. One of the first things I noticed was that all of hte houses in all of the suburbs have large security fences as a minimum, most with barbed wire or spikes on top, and many with big security company signs out frong (though they all have security systems, hooked in with the companies and the police). It seems a shame to me that everyone lives in the restricted way; housing developments full of small duplexes that all look the same are attractive to many people here for the extra reason of being inside a security enclosure.
Anyway, this type of discussion led on to talking about "the blacks", and society as it is now. The number of blacks outnumber whites by about 8 to 1, and for the last 12 years the government has been seen (at least by the whites) to be the polar opposite to the appartheit government before that. It was really intersting to speak to these whites whom in their lifetime have seen so much oppression one way and now are feeling it the other way. They were telling me about university courses where a certain number of blacks must be enrolled and passed every year (there are 250-260 out of one guy's 280 person medical course), and the bias in the court system that would allow a white to shoot a white in self defence, but not a black, and about how unsafe they feel in general (especially the girls - can't even drive on their own after dark, and had been held up at knife point). The conversation was punctuated with "we must be sounding very racist, but we're really not", and some of them told me of thier experiences with very generous blacks who have even helped them in dangerous times. I put across some examples of the Aborignal plight in Australia for comparison and contrast, but it seems like a mostly different situation. Yes, a thoroughly interesting conversation, and one where I did my best to take an objective outsider's position.

Anyway, the people I've met have all been wonderfully generous and friendly, and I even got up and sang karaoke at the end of last night, so by all accounts I'm loving South Africa thus far!

Anrie's Family's residence, Pretoria

2006-01-03T22:05:00.000+10:00

Well four entries for one day is unusal, but it's worth taking note that right now I love the world.

On the bus from the hotel to the airport I got chatting with a family from Esk who are on their was back home from Africa. They were really friendly and gave some great advice (do an evening cruise on the Zambeze River, and the walk up the Victoria Falls, give toy Aus sourveniers to the poor locals, etc) and were good company until I lost them just now.

Also, when I went to check in I wsa jovially friendly with the guy behind the counter, and was little surprised to see him pick up the phone and make a call just after I put my luggage on the scales. When he hung up he asked if I was travelling alone and explained it was busy flight. We discussed why that might be and soon the phone rang and after he hung up he told me he'd scored me a great seat and proceeded to write out a note. He handed me the piece of paper which told me to not be surprised, that I was being upgraded to Business Class, something about the people next to me being split up, and the rest was unfathomable. I knew not to mess around, I thanked him, took the boarding pass and skedaddled.

And now, just as I'm writing this a Scotsman has just sat down next to me and ordered a pint. He's come back from a month in New Zealand with grand tales of promise for us boys over there.

So if you'll excuse me I'll just join him in a Guinness.

"Champion's Sports Bar", Hong Kong Airport

2006-01-03T19:30:00.000+10:00

I topped off my evening in HK with a stroll along the Avenue of Stars, a lovely dinner at the Serenade (?) restuarant overlooking the harbour and HK Island (marianted beef shins, and then steamed bean curd with bamboo pith and ham, accompanied by a Chile Cab Sav) and a small wander along the harbour after dark. Now let's just hope my suitcase is within allowable weight with my hiking boots in as well as Em's camera and Aus gifts for the Saffas.

Here are some amusing names of HK businesses:

Greatfaith Shipping
"Kiss My Kids" Educational Tools
Gaylord Indian Restaurant

"The Salisbury" YMCA lobby

2006-01-03T17:05:00.000+10:00

Well my time in HK is drawing to a close, and I must say that I wish it wasn't just yet. I compared HK to Singapore in my head when booking the Cathay Pacific flight - thinking I'd like to try HK for something new. The gamble has payed off, and not only in the sense that I saved money on the flight. I've enjoyed HK, and would like to come back here some time.

Maybe it's the escape form 'normal life', maybe it's the surprise at my almost lavish accom (with comfortingly familiar 70's church song-elevator music played throughout), or the cool people I met on the tour (a multi-religion teacher from Sydney on a 12 month sabatical), or the amusing hooks the shop sellers use ("Hey, remember me?!" playing on the 'they all look the same' syndrome), or the intersting sotries behind some of the stranger sights ("feng-shui fake guns on business buildings, and hotels with holes built in them so the lucky dragon/s are able to bring up riches from the ocean. No kidding!).

Hong Kong is also faily multi-cultural, with Chinese, HK and other asians together. Even the once really poor, now able to employ others Tankanese (?) boat people (we saw at Aberdeen) have their own language and culture and just live in the harbour out of hte way on their own. At one stage these guys paid tax in eggs and fish, now they buy air-cons and TVs and employ people from mainland China to go out to sea to do their fishing!

I do regret not being here for a proper night. The sun is starting to set now, but I'm on my way to the airport in less than 2 hrs, and I didn't get in until nearly 11pm last night. (If only I'd known about the Ned Kelly bar - free jazz band from 9pm - 1am). (I've also missed out on the Space Museum, Imax shows and Arts museum which are all closed on Tuesdays!). So yeah, some time in the future I'd like to return and spend a few days here... and do the tour that includes dinner at the revolving restaurant followed by a cruise on the harbour with unlimited drinks.

The steps behind the Cultural Centre, overlooking Victoria Harbour

2006-01-03T14:55:00.000+10:00

Once again I'm kicking off my travel journal writing while sitting on my own over a meal and a beer.

Yesterday I left Brisbane, full of expectation and low on sleep. I packed two carry-on bags, mostly full of travel related purchases that I guessed applied for the GST refund. Turns out the refund is only valid for receipts totalling over $300, which left out all of my purchases bar my hiking boots and video camera, and I'd left my video camera receipt at home. So, I simply accepted the $30 I did receive as a bonus and left it at that. While lining up for the refund I made amiable conversation with the girl infront of me, and image our surprise when we found ourselves seated next to eachother on the plane! It made my first solo longhaul that much nicer to be able to talk with someone vaguely familiar.

So, on to HK. There seem to be five main areas to the country of Hong Kong: Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, Lantau Island, Sai Kung and the New Territories. The new airport is out in Lantau Island, I'm staying in Kowloon and the tour I did was of Hong Kong Island.

What I first noticed on the bus trip in (apart from the 'large city' feel) was that the country side was made up of rocky outcrops. HK is quite mountainous all over, the steep rock coming right out of the water makes 260 islands across the coutnry. I really noticed it early on the bus trip from the airport, some big rocky hills sticking up right next to (and between) freeway on-ramps.

The next thing I noticed about HK greater (what I've just now dubbed HK Island and Kowloon) is how glitzy it is. The large buildings on HK Island have massive neon pictures on them and really look quite spectacular to a first timer. In some places I think it is a bit over the top, but for the most part I found it nice, even enticing.

My accomodation was at "The Salisbury" YMCA, which I was dubious about befoer arriving there. It is however quite well situated (right next to "The Peninsula" - one of the world's top 10 hotels apparently, and merely one block from the harbour), and the suite I was upgraded to (what luck!) was clean, homely and well equipped.

This morning I did a half day tour of HK island, which included seeing the Aberdeen boat people, the Dynasty jewellers, the Stanley Markets and Victoria Peak. I foolishly allowed myself to be ripped of by the sanpan driver (at Aberdeen) for anice fan for Anrie (my own mis-hearing and then price were the cause). The rest of the tour is quite well documented thanks to my lovely video camera. It was a great tour all round, and I'd love to do a night time tour to complement it.

Since the tour I've been wandering the streets of Kowloon looking for a steal on a digital camera for Emma (youngest sister). Trouble is I can get pretty good prices, but nothing fantastic like I did in Singapore. As silly as it sounds, I think part of the reason is my new jacket; I think most shop owners assume I'm well off and won't give such a rich prick absolute bargains. Oh well, the downside of looking good ey.

Well this place that I've just eaten at is disappointingly like a cheap Western joint. I'm going to try something nicer for dinner... just as long as I make my airport transfer.

"Ashley 33" Bar and Restaurant, Kowloon

2005-08-08T19:10:00.000+10:00

The next morning we bade farewell to our tour cook Ben “Fluffy”. He was straight off on another tour and we were bus-bound for London.

The mood was still fairly light, people were sharing contact details and generally getting on about having a good time still. We bid farewell to a couple of Team Korea; Joanne gave me a special lucky charm which I thought was nice and sweet. I remember in Venice standing out the front of our cabin and seeing her at the window of hers next door dancing hard to the music they had playing. After that we had this in-joke about it – those guys were really good fun; it was quite a shame we didn’t all speak the same language.

Our lunch stop was in beautiful Brugge. On the way through Belgium we were told there are two man-made structures you can see from space: The Great Wall of China and the Belgium Motorway (it was built by the Germans for them after the war). Walking into Brugge was almost surreal. We were surrounded by lush large old trees and in front of us down the path was a soft green patch of grass with ducks and swans around, next to a pleasant creek with a stone bridge over it. And in the background a string duet was playing. It was pure loveliness.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time in Brugge, by the time we finished the walking tour, Lara and I scrambled to get some take-away burgers with French fried (invented in Belgium they were, and here they love them with mayonnaise) and bought boxes of select hand-made chocolates for presents back home, and I managed to cram in some waffles, another Belgian invention and speciality.

2005-08-04T14:50:00.000+10:00

The boat cruise included free beer, wine and soft drinks and came with a wacky commentator who was really informative and had an amusing way of telling us the story behind “this big green thing over here” and the like.

The cruise was pleasant, and everyone on board was being sure to have a good time – it was our last night together. After the cruise we got out and wandered to Dan Murphy’s – one of the nearby pubs (we were in the centre of town) for a few parting drinks.

And share drinks we did, grateful for the company we’d been in over the last few weeks. After a while Antoinette and I left the group for a romantic stroll back to Hans Brinkler’s. We wandered out into the Leidseplein square and stopped to see some amateur breakdancers and then wandered down a random street leading out of the square hoping it would magically turn into something familiar. It didn’t so we wandered another block over and headed back towards the square, lapping up the atmosphere and savouring the fading moments in each other’s company.

We decided to catch a cab and bailed up a driver who looked at us strangely and said “it’s just down that street there and to the right”. Right. It was the last time we would walk hand-in-hand, with out steps synchronised, towards what had become our home.

2005-08-04T08:35:00.000+10:00

Our first morning in Amsterdam I arrived downstairs just too late for breakfast, but oh well, around the corner to the bakery for some fresh pastry and maybe some time alone. I put in our photos from the paragliding in Austria to be processed, and then waited at the bike hire shop for the bike tour to arrive.

The bike tour of Amsterdam was pretty cool, but quite cold because it rained rather miserably for most of the trip. But there is more to Amsterdam than evil follies, and it really was an interesting trip. We heard how the house-boats in the canals were now all fitted with sewage pipes connected to the mains, how the canals are flushed every week, that the Netherlands was home to some philosophical thinkers who were actually listened to, how Amsterdam is a really really old trading city, about the relationship they have with Canada, and probably more that I’ve forgotten since.

One cool thing was the symbol of Amsterdam/Netherlands; the three crosses. St Andrew is the patron saint for the Netherlands, and his symbol is a sideways cross that looks like an X (he didn’t want to be crucified on an upright cross like Jesus so they put him on his side). Three of these crosses represent the three threats Amsterdam has overcome: the plague, fire, and flood, each of which put the city in grave danger of being destroyed on multiple occasions in the past. To diverge a little, the Netherlands was one of the first countries to legalise hardcore pornography and export it around the world. Whenever some of this material would leave Amsterdam it would have the local symbol of “XXX” printed on it. In a marketers dream this symbol soon became synonymous with the “good stuff”, until today in most people’s minds its true meaning is lost and they just relate it to pornography.

Having seen the red light district and a sex show, I’d set aside the afternoon to sample the local green cuisine. I’d previously arranged to share a ‘space cake’ as they’re known with Jess and so we met up at a coffee shop where we found a few of the other guys, and we indulged.
OK, all’s well and good. But I haven’t eaten since the bakery this morning and I heard that some other guys were over at the Italian restaurant around the corner so Jess and I go to join them. They’re just finishing up and soon I’m left on my own with a loaf of garlic bread and a huge bowl of pasta. Sure enough, a few minutes later I start to notice my thinking patterns have slightly altered. Must be that bitter leaf-tasting part of the muffin kicking in. Well it really didn’t kick in as much as I though it would, but certainly enough to appreciate my surroundings on a new level. There was something serene but stimulating about my sitting at the back corner of the (mostly empty) restaurant looking out the front doorway and large glass window, watching the world of people leading a smorgasbord of lives drift past to wherever their mission or daze leads them.
Halfway through my pasta I realised it was nearly 5pm and we were meeting at 6pm to head out for our final farewell dinner. Off I went for a shower.

We trammed it out to a large pier where we boarded a floating Chinese restaurant. The food there was plentiful and tasty, and they brought out a large firecracker on a cake for Lisa’s birthday. All fed, it was off to the river cruise.

2005-08-02T16:35:00.000+10:00

We’re nighing the end of the trip now.
Next stop after Czeck Republic was St Goar in the Rhine Valley in Germany. The trip there was mostly uneventful except for passing the Hokkenheim ring when the F1 race was on there (I saw a Lambo parked in the paddock next to it!), the pork schnitzel in a roll that I had for a morning snack, and the material shown earlier in the blog written by Anrie.

St Goar is a nice little uneventful town on the Rhine. It lays claim to both the largest freestanding cuckoo clock an the largest beer stein in the world, neither of which Lara or I took photos of because they aren’t really that interesting. We saw presentations on both cuckoo clocks and beer steins – the stein one was pretty interesting; if we weren’t given one already when we stayed in Germany last I almost certainly would have bought one, just to be a man.

We stayed at a campsite owned by a slightly crazy guy known as Hermann the German. He fed us with great chips, pretty good pork schnitzel and below average (tinned) vegetables, and later we went down to his special downstairs bar for the world’s fastest wine-tasting, with cheese.
The wines were nothing special, all quite sweet, but the evening was spiced up by the quantity (double-shot-ish sized glasses we got to keep) and rate (what, you’re not finished the last one yet?) at which they were put through, as well as Herman’s antics with an ugly mast and some amusing poses for photos. Later on we all tried “Herman’s Special” shots (really quite nice actually) and a few of the group tried the completely wacky version of “fussball” game that was there.

Before the evening got too out of hand Antoinette and I made our retreat back to the … interesting accommodation. Most of the sleeping arrangements were two side-by-side mattresses behind a curtain, stacked two high and two across (sleeping 8 against one side of the room). I wound up with a standard single bunk though, to which we retreated now. Later we went out for a wander just as everyone else was returning. There was a bit of a kafuffle as to who was going to sleep where, that didn’t bother me too much, but I found out the next day that Antoinette slept the night with no pillow, sleeping bag or any other covering! She was great and didn’t complain a bit, though I regretted not being there for warmth and comfort.

After an early breakfast, the last meal Fluffy (our cook) had to prepare, we were on the road to Amsterdam and our two final nights.

Amsterdam, city of legalised prostitution and drugs, and other disgraces to humanity. Maybe it’ll soon sink or be washed out to sea and this slight on our earth will be removed.

I really enjoyed Amsterdam, for many reasons. On our way in we stopped at “Rembrandt Farm”, a building so old that Rembrandt painted it, and of a lineage so frugal that some of its windows are still blocked up, centuries after some crazy empire taxed open windows. One of the farm girls gave us a short demonstration on how cheese is made, and then we went on through to meet the farmer. This guy was a real character, he was able to speak in the native language of every member of our group, and seemed just slightly crazy – the sort of crazy you’d go if you had the luxury to afford it.

From there it was on to the Hans Brinkler home for exotic diseases and youth hostel. This place’s spin on promoted image was “we are really crap”, and by the way it was packed out I guess it actually worked. Certainly was the accommodation highlight of the trip though.

That night we took in a sex show (good for the experience but I don’t think I’ll ever need to go again), went on a walking tour of some of the old city and red light district. It was a bit strange to walk down the alleys with the girls behind large glass windows dressed in bikinis. Most of them didn’t really dance or wave, but just stood or sat there chilling out, maybe wondering what the night might bring. Most of them could fit in as one of your mates, so for me it wasn’t so surreal as others found it, but just legitimately real and lifelike.

In the Netherlands prostitution is legal. The defence case is as follows. Amsterdam has always been a port city, and in every port city of there world there have always been sailors and sailors who have been away from home for extended periods of time and only in port briefly. In every port city of the world there have always been prostitutes. The Dutch are quite liberal (some might say “clear”) thinkers, and realised this would simply always be a fact of life, and so they legalised it, bringing the advantages of being able to regulate it. Every sex worker is health tested every three weeks, they pay taxes, they are well looked after (just try to take out your camera or mobile phone down any of the alleys) and they have formed their own union even.

Along a similar train of thought, the Dutch authorities “tolerate” cannabis. It isn’t strictly legal, but it s allowed and very strictly regulated. “Coffee Shops” with green and white stickers are where you can purchase cigarettes, cakes, even mushroom tea (if you want only a coffee, go to a Café). Any coffee shop found with any ‘hard’ drugs on the premises gets a star against them, and two stars is instant close-down of the shop, and further, when a coffee shop is sold the stars are transferred to the new owner (reducing the value of any establishment allowing even one junkie on the premises). The Netherlands has the lowest marijuana usage of any of its European neighbours bar Luxembourg – about half that of Australia. Outside Amsterdam these coffee shops are few and far between. As a whole, the system seems to work well for the locals and it’s only the tourists that potentially rock the boat.

2005-07-31T07:55:00.000+10:00

It is worth another interjector to say that Prague is very richly cultured all over, lovely and vibrant, I would love to go back and live there for a little while.
So Jan and I took the opportunity to be a part of this culture of which we speak, and decided to dine for the evening at a little known small restaurant near Wenceslas Square called McDonalds. I ordered a hamburger and chips with a large strawberry shake, and Jan two cheeseburgers (oh the strange details one remembers). At this McDonalds place they give you your food all on a tray when you pay at the counter, and you go then and find your own seat. Well I picked up my tray but turned awkwardly and my large shake lost balance and tumbled from the tray. This wasn’t an ungraceful fall however; as I looked down to see the impact I watched as it tumbled nicely and hit the ground squarely on the exact bottom of the cup. This was extraordinary to witness – the cup instead of rocking or tumbling or crumpling instead shot two thirds of its contents into the air. My shoes, shorts and jacket were of course all hit, my face was almost directly above the cup and was the most covered by the eruption. Even the girl behind the counter had a spot in her hair. You can just picture me covered in pink goo trying to explain through sign language to this girl that she had some in her hair. I think she thought I was trying to be funny because she’d nod and giggle at my every attempt. Finally Jan got a photo and I was able to start cleaning down.

Our reason for choosing such a classy establishment for evening dinner that night was not primarily to experience this starkly new culture, but more so to be finished with dinner promptly so we might scoot across town to the Opera house and make the Gala Opening Concert of the Prague Music Festival – the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra playing Brahms’1st Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.

And scoot we did, making it in good time. The friendly doorman asked us in velvet British tones, which perhaps came with his suit and tales, for our tickets. We couldn’t yet oblige so he directed us to the ticket office around the corner. It was only after this encounter that we thought “Gee, it was mighty good of a man so well dressed and groomed to be so polite to dags like us”, and then the logical extension “perhaps we should have thought about wearing something other than the smelly and dusty clothes we’ve been walking and climbing in all day”. We were both in shorts, Jan with a Pinky & The Brain t-shirt and me with my shake-stained jacket. Nevermind, no time for that now. Our tickets cost us each 600 Kroner (we splurged on the best seats still available) which came to $32.12 a pop. Feeling that we were a little more worthy because we could afford such high spending we returned back around the corner and up the grand stars to the main entrance and were greeted warmly once again and directed to the cloakroom and then to proceed around the corner.

Around the corner free champagne and a room full of what seemed Prague’s royalty awaited us. The champagne was quite nice and our fellow concert-goers were less than amused to see the state of the nation had crumbled to the point where such people as us were also patrons (I mean, communinism was one thing, but…). Jan and I lingered in the toilets and almost cowed in the corner of the lobby for a short while before (over our third glass) I suggested to Jan that we had come this far, had the gall to be in the same room as these people, and it’s only a small step further to have the audacity to join them, even meet them at their level and interact with them. Actually what I think I said was “are you feeling ballsy? Let’s go mingle” but the net effect was the same, and soon enough we were in the thick of Prague’s upper crust. Our “Good Evening”s were met with the predictable range of return greetings along with some expected cold stares and icy shoulders, and one surprising “good on you guys, you’ve got guts” style of wink. A marvellous night even before the music!

And the music! To be hones Jan and I both were starting to nod off during the introduction to the Piano Concerto, but once the pianist started we were picked up and transported to that surreal place of total immersed enjoyment.

The Opera House itself is not very large, and is as crazily ornate as expected. Our 600 Kroner bought us seats about a third of the way back from the stage and about a third in from the side, and were great for the experience but made it a little difficult to keep my stifled coughing to myself and exceptionally embarrassing when I had a ‘down the wrong pipe’ episode while trying to keep my stifled coughing to myself. Jan nearly picked me up and threw me out himself, but I was soon good again so no real harm done.

During Interval we purchased ourselves another glass of bubbly so as to round off our evening you see. Beethoven’s 7th was again an amazing experience, but even more so than Brahms. In that place in that time I was beamed up to a whole new plane of sublime fulfilment and it took a good while to start to come down again.

At the end of the night Jan and I ran into a few of the others on the tram home, and buzzed our great evening to them. When we arrived back at camp I found Antoinette, took her by the hand, ran with her, twirled her, threw her in the air and kissed her madly. The whole evening was a wonderful passion kick-starter.

2005-07-28T12:05:00.000+10:00

Also in St Johann is Bunny’s Pub, an Aussie bar run by a bloke called Paulie who is free with a laugh and generous at handing out shots if the party’s fading. He took one look at 6’8” Mark and said “Geez, do you reckon he’s too big to get drunk? Wonder if we can get him to fall over.” I heard that he succeeded by the end of the night. There are a few tales from that evening, but for the most part they come under the banner of “what happens on tour stays on tour”.

St Johann is a great place to sit and chill and Pete, Antoinette and I did exactly that on the next morning. Learning to repugn non-Italian coffee we sat and watched friendly Austrians go past and we wandered the streets some. Pete and I had a go at the concrete toboggan track. Wow man, there’s no way this thing would be legal in Australia – not because of the state of repair of the plant or equipment, but just the inherent lack of safety that comes with hurtling down a mountainside (so high up we had to take a ski lift – the track is as long as a full ski slope) with no protection more than your own instinct of self-preservation. And just to really give it a kick, your competitive side is brought into play by there being two tracks side by side. Oh and there are jumps. Yeah! Pete and I had two goes before our afternoon’s main activity: paragliding.

Paragliding was fantastic. We started at 1700m above sea level, climbed to 1900m and finally came to rest 30mins and a few acrobatic stunts later at 700m. It’s just amazingly cool to be able to recline (yes recline) while floating up and down a kilometre above the ground amongst the alps. We were lucky to have such a great day; sharing the sky with gliders is always a good sign. The tranquillity and escapism of it all is hard to portray; I imagine the experience is similar to being a cloud.

Another crazy night at Bunny’s; we’re all having a grand time. I cleaned up the table in a game of 8 ball, much to me team mate Jan’s delight and then Antoinette and I left for some quiet time – foot rubs and deep talks. We got close and by the end realised it was too close for a holiday fling which made us take a step back, and we soon parted for the evening.

The next we arrived in Prague. Prague is every bit as lovely as I’ve been told. The streets are clean, the heritage is rich, and the entire city is interesting during the day and alive all through the night. On the first night we went to the largest night club in middle Europe (a little dingy, but full of variety and people). The following morning Jan, Peter and I rose late, went in for some late breakfast, browsed the markets (which were wonderful; I would have bought just about anything they had on sale), watched the town clock come slightly to life at the coming of the hour (1pm), visited the sex machine museum (waste of money really), found 7 of the 12 gold plates on the Charles Bridge (to find all 12 gives super-natural power), experienced a true traditional Czech meal (have a guess what “bread dumplings” are), climbed the hill to the palace, climbed the high tower of the cathedral there, and then went looking for culture.

Singapore Airlines Flight SQ235
Singapore -> Brisbane, Australia

2005-07-27T19:30:00.000+10:00

If you have hours to spend at an international airport, make sure it’s Changi. I’m at a bar listening to a jazz trio of piano/percussion, bass, tenor play “I shot the sheriff”. Where else?

Getting back to Venice. Venice was marvellously different again. Still very Italian, but the canals and gondolas and lack of traffic make for something new.

I remember our walking tour going past St Mark’s cathedral (another ridiculously ornate cathedral, but in a different style again to the others) and Pam telling us the story of how St Mark came to be buried there (a covert mission by this church’s leaders at the time). For some reason the story personified the concept of apostles and saints for me and made them seem so much more tangible. I’m not sure what this actually means for me, if anything, but it was an interesting experience.

We went to visit a lace making demonstration that I literally fell asleep during (from exhaustion more than boredom… sort of), then to over to watch a man blow a horse. That was clever. This guy grabs a large molten stick of glass from the furnace and using nothing more than tongs and gravity makes a freaking HORSE from it in less than three minutes. Very cool.

Feeling game I ordered a Veal Liver dish from a restaurant on the Grand Canal, just near the Rialto Bridge, and had the single worst value for money meal of the trip. I didn’t enjoy the pasta, nor the side of veges, couldn’t handle the veal or amazingly salty onions, and the “Fresh Fruit” dessert course was a small bowl of chopped strawberries (but at least that course didn’t come from a can).

Still feeling game, Peter and I decided to let the blonde Melbourne girls guide us to the West side of the city where the shuttle bus stopped (there’s no motor traffic in the whole of Venice). This time the risk payed off and we arrived at the right place ahead of time.

The accommodation in Venice was nice – I scored a double bed the first night. We could get together and have fun outside these bungalow thingies cos there was a table and chairs and cheap beers available from the supermarket. I think our group really started to chill and get more comfortable with each other in Venice.

Sitting here is great. I’m loving the reminiscing, the music is fine (just had the trio do Celine Dion, now Fugees, all quite lounge-y), and the aircraft are rolling inand out making me think about how many individual lives there are just in this one little scene, and how little they intersect or overlap, but still make up a part of the view from this stool.
I swear I’m on my first scotch.

Venice gave way to Austria. We stopped before reaching our final destination, to go white water rafting which is a great concept for an exciting sport but wasn’t implemented wonderfully in this instance mostly due to the lucidness of the course compared to how much they talked it up (the rafters, not the Top Deck crew). Still, now I’ve got an idea I’ll do it again in a trice.

We stayed in St Johann in Tyrol which is a top little place with not many tourists in the main part of the town, but also has more than enough to keep an adrenaline junkie occupied.

Sports Bar, Chani Airport
Singapore

2005-07-27T15:15:00.000+10:00

Ah, Italian nights. It started with a dance back in Florence. Well it started with a few other dances before that, but it came to be that Antoinette and I were shaking it across the floor together. And then again the next song. And before too long I found I was no longer interested in dancing with anyone else.
Out on the large open area we wasted no time finding out exactly how much we have in common – very much on a personal level. Jibbering away with no feeling of or regard for time we were discovered by a search party looking for the cabin keys that we each had. After they were dealt with and dismissed we got down to seriously romantic business: dancing to our own music beneath a jewel-encrusted night sky. The whole area was ours save for the occasional security guard who would give us a wink and a nod and turn away to leave us.

The magic in the air that night was electrifying, but it didn’t end there. We hung out on the bus, in spas, bars and gondolas.
Which brings us to Venice.

Sports Bar, Changi Airport
Singapore

2005-07-27T10:55:00.000+10:00

Rome held a lot of walking for us. Once again I was privileged to keep the company of Jan for the whole day. In the morning we opted to follow the walking tour Pam (our tour leader) ran, starting at the Colosseum & Roman Forum ruins, making our way over to the queue for the Vatican Museum which is on the other side of town from the Colosseum and finished over 1km (literally) from the entrance to the museum. The closing time was less than 90mins after our arriving there, hence our change of plan to see St Peter’s straight away.

After St Peter’s some of us wandered over to the square with three fountains (whatever its real name is) for a fantastic meal on a side street with the most efficient and resourceful matre’d of the whole tour. The food was so great I had no trouble downing two large courses. From there we went on to the Pantheon, a building as interesting in history as in appearance, but only lingered briefly, and there we split from the group.
Jan, Gareth and I decided to head all the way back over to the Colosseum where we joined a guided tour (taken by an Italian porn star who either really knew his stuff or was very convincing at making up stories) and nearly collapsed from exhaustion during it. After though, Jan and I felt a second wind in our sails and trekked back again to the Trebi fountain that we’d visited the day before. Legend tells that if you drink of the water you become a virgin again, though nobody I knew considered the risk of cholera worth the fabled promise. Nearby we enjoyed a coffee right on the edge of a side street that was away from most of the bustle but still had enough foot traffic to make sitting there interesting. The coffee (as is now the case for every other coffee I’ve ever tried) was not as good as in Florence, but still par for the high standard of Italy.
After that, over to the Spanish Steps, just to say we climbed them, and to take daggy photos.

Flight LH776
Frankfurt -> Singapore

2005-07-23T08:50:00.000+10:00

To break up the travel a bit, here’s a post with scribblings written on the bus. They don’t add much to the story, but are nice for me or those who know the people on the tour

First, some stuff written by the lovely crazy Anrie

Dear Tim,

Me, you & An2net are currently on the bus in Germany. Guten Tag!!! You are sleeping again! I jumped out of a plane a few days about! You should have come along but you are a big girl! This has been the time of my life! I’m so glad I’ve got to share it with you cool people, unfortunately I’ll never see any of you again.

Have an amazing life!

Tralala, Auf Wiedersein,
Anrie
P.S. I don’t always write like a crab

Lewe en laat dit lewe!

We are still in the bus. I am soooo bored! The music is not very cool but luckily we are only about an hour out of the Rhine Valley.

Where is the love? An2net is biting you if you didn't notice. On the one hand I just want to go lie in front of the TV for about a week but on the other hand I don't want this tour to end ever!

We just saw a sign that says: "Hollenbrand". It means: bumhole burn. Ha-ha. Tonight we are going winetasting which is cool 'cause I love German wine!

In Amsterdam we are going for a smoke, a pancake & a sex show. What more do you want out of life? I want to get off the bus.

and a little something soppy I wrote

I’m a bit of a sucker for melancholy. We’re on the bus between Prague and Germany, everyone’s sleeping, we’ve got Coldplay going, and I’m spending quality time lying in the lap of a girl I may miss for the rest of my life.

2005-07-19T08:00:00.000+10:00

My experience of Roma was initially similar to my experience of Paris – thought it was really dirty and bordering on horrible before getting into the old city and being blown away.
We were too late and too honest to either line up the 3hrs or jump the queue to the Vatican Museum (which includes the Sistine Chapel), so we went to see St Peter’s Cathedral.
St Peter’s is great. The line-up wasn’t that long and it was free to come in and see the entire main area. Inside many great pictures adorn the walls, the roof is lined with golden flowers (no two the same), and there’s a great big monument/altar thing in the middle that is kind of imposing but easy to appreciate and admire.

Two things really stood out about St Peter’s to me. One is how amazingly huge it actually is while at the same time only looking fairly big. In the photo here check out the people at the bottom. See the lower line of writing? Those letters are 2m high according to a tour guide we overheard. It’s easy to see the magnitude of its size from the photo, but when you’re there it all looks so nicely proportioned that your mind considers it cosier than it really is.
The second thing that got me about St Peter’s is that there is not a single painting in the whole cathedral. There are huge pictures on almost every wall, high and low, but every one of them is an intricate mosaic. And they’re amazing – stand a couple of metres back from the rail in front of them and you’d swear they’re painted, but if you lean over the railing you can see they’re actually made up of tiny pieces of coloured rock. It really is astonishing and adds to the overall impression I had of the cathedral: that everything in it is even greater than what you first realise. I think that’s a great sentiment for a church.

Top Deck Coach
Venice -> St Johan, Austria

2005-07-16T17:50:00.000+10:00

Time in Europe is different. A lot of shops don’t open till 10am, and the sun it up and people are out and about after 9pm; most evening functions don’t start until 10pm. However, even taking this into consideration, I have still been lacking sleep. Also thanks in part to Antoinette whom I’ve share the last two evenings with.

We arrived late in the night at our campsite in Florence with high expectations of it and we weren’t disappointed at all. It really was only campsite, though we stayed in cabins, but there was a pool, a really fantastic restaurant, three bars and a night club.

Our full day in Florence saw us dropped in next to the city and taking a walking tour. Florence has a really lovely vibe I think. It is intolerably overrun with tourists though. As part of our walking tour we visited a leather-making shop where they gave us demonstrations and I bought a nice wallet. I had it embossed with my initials later in the day, but had to return it later again because of a flaw in the craftsmanship. At least it had craftsmanship though, and hadn’t just come off an assembly line.

After the walking tour, Jan and I took a free guided tour within the cathedral (Duomo) that was taken by a nutbar of a girl who loved her job and didn’t let details like factual information get in the way of her saying what she wanted. She told us the story of the child-like figure in the fresco (at the bottom next to the skeleton) that was painted alongside a bicycle. Or at least that’s what she told 26 tour groups last week before she climbed the steps and saw for herself that it was actually a broken sword and not a bicycle (she actually told us all of this).
We took the time to line up and climb the dome which was worth it for the amazing fresco on the inside of the inner dome and the unobstructed view from outside the outer dome.

After, we followed some back streets to the “Old Bridge” – lined with goldsmiths and jewellers. We shopped for a present for Jan’s sister, found something perfect, then headed back into town for a cappuccino and a sit down.

Coffee in Italy is amazing. You’ve heard it before and I’m saying it now too. Never have I enjoyed any coffee so much, it is simply superb.

After a little while (hour or so) soaking up the local atmosphere we thought we’d chance the Uffizi gallery. Being so late in the day the queue was only 30mins long instead of the usual 2hrs. There are some truly magnificent pieces of art here; it’s one of the most famous museums in the world, and we had a whirlwind tour of it, realising only as we were running for the bus that we’d missed the “Birth of Venus” painting!

Our final night in Florence Lara and I showed off our moderate dancing abilities and she wound up with an old guy buying her drinks and making proposals, and I would up with a great South African lady.

2005-07-15T09:20:00.000+10:00

If I was feeling better in the snow up so high then I would have loved to snowboard, but the lack of sleep the previous night and the lack of oxygen left me struggling to get around for 10mins of every hour (it would come and go in waves). There was a little bit to see but not a whole lot if you’re not up for getting physical in the freezing temperatures, so in the mid arvo most of us returned to the valley village. Some of us went into the village and sat at a coffee shop breathing in the scenery and soaking in the feel of the place. This is an important part to my experiencing each place we visit, and it was quite magical in Switzerland (“hey guys, just thought I’d mention the ALPS again”).

Yesterday we bussed it into Italia and Firenze (Florence), the capital of old Tuscany. The drive showed us some remarkable views, alpine mountains behind picturesque villages set on the bank of a crystal mirrored lake – the sort of thing you see in a movie or painting or dream.
So it followed that our first stop (for lunch) in Italy was amazingly disappointing. It was at a petrol station with no distinguishing features apart from the enclosure with small roadworking equipment, and the smell of urine near the bins (common to many Italian servos I hear).

Top Deck Coach
Florence -> Rome, Italy

2005-07-13T08:10:00.001+10:00

What does "brad" mean and how is "bradwurst" different from normal wurst?
The "young lady"/"Jungfrau" is lovely. Over 4000m high and you can go up over 3500m without going out of doors and the view is every bit as spectacular as you'd expect.

Top Deck Coach
Lauterbrunnen -> Florence, Italy

2005-07-12T17:25:00.000+10:00

The drive yesterday was reasonably uneventful except for the surprising and astonishingly beautiful change of scenery when we came to Switzerland at the end of the trip, and the spending time with folk from the group.

The body is an amazing device, how it all interconnects and works together. As we were approaching Switzerland the scenery change hits your eyes and somehow manages to take your breath away and increase your heart rate. Picturesque doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. Glorious is up there. Today we have travelled up to Jungfrau: “Top of Europe” (notice there’s no “The” in the title), and despite our hangovers and sleep deprivation the scintillating view and excitement for being a part of it was enough to keep most of us awake and sucking in the scenery.

Jungfrau Hotel Restaurant,
“Top of Europe”, Switzerland

2005-07-11T08:30:00.000+10:00

So yes, from now on I'll be looking out for bike tours in the cities we stop at.

After our bike tour we decided to do the next required tourist's task in Paris and go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The tower itself is an interesting monument. In 1889 it was chosen as the winner of a competition held for what to put in that spot to celebrate 100 years of the French revolution. It narrowly defeated the runner-up (which was a giant guillotine), but in typical French style everybody hated the Eiffel Tower. Eiffel was promised it would be erected for 20 years, so the locals weren’t allowed to have it torn down straight away. And by the end of that period there was a world war on and the Frenchies found out they were sitting on a 300m antenna.
Eventually the rest of the world came to appreciate the structure and Parisians decided they liked it and don’t you even suggest replacing it my fine foreign friend oui oui.

It took us about an hour and a half to get up and down the Eiffel Tower. If you ever do it I think it’s quite a bit quicker to walk up and down where you can (only the first two “levels”).
Our next plan was to take a metro to Notre Dame de Paris. We started by walking to a non-existent metro station, then doubled back to walk along the river, walking completely past one station in the pursuit of another (non existent) before realising our mistake and heading back to the one we passed. Right so where are we and where are we going? The trip was only three stops, so we started to try and figure out the decidedly French (ticket?) machine there. After a few minutes of frustration someone commented on the tin shed next to where we were and how people were leaving it then heading underground to the track. We quickly bumbled inside and discovered it was an unmarked ticket office. We ordered our tickets, suffering the dissent from the ticket lady with good natured humility.
Down to the platform just in time to jump on board. As we’re pulling into the next station Peter read off our information sheet that Notre Dame was closing in 10mins. Off we jump in a rush, and over the bridge for a wander up Camps Elysees, stopping only to check out the Renault dealership and to sit in a restaurant for a few minutes before deciding it was taking too long to order a beer and leaving. Snap some shots of the Arc de Triomphe then wander back over to the Eiffel Tower for a champagne picnic dinner under it.

For some culture a few of us opted for the cabaret show in the evening. Yeah good for a bit of culture, and also for a bit of peep show too – a few of the dancers were topless for a few of the acts. But it wasn’t distasteful really and I was more disappointed with just the slight lack of polish on the production than the young ladies’ breasts.

And now this morning we’re off to Switzerland, with many a bus hour ahead.

Top Deck Coach
Paris -> Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland

2005-07-11T00:40:00.000+10:00

Well I'm back in Aus now, am in the process of finishing writing my journal in the book, and also sparodically also putting it online.
I've changed the settings so anyone can post a comment on any of the posts so please offer any opinions or stories or whatever by clicking the word "Comments" under each post.

After the church (where we had a disappointingly small 30mins to eat and take in the view) we boarded for a coach tour of the sights of old Paris town. It was really great, there really is a lot of cool stuff to see in Paris if you've got the time.

The next day we realised we didn't have the time. Some of us took a tour of the city on bicycle. This really is one fo the best ways to do it in my opinion. The bikes are not standard bikes, but are very comfortable to sit on and easy to ride. The riding is at a leisurely pace too, so there's no reason for someone who doesn't normally ride to think that it's not for them. In Paris especially it's easy to get around, and the commentary given by the bike leader is fantastic. Fat Tyre Bike Tours - highly recommended.

Room 208, Sovereign Hotel
St Denis, Paris, France

2005-07-10T09:05:00.000+10:00

Wow, backpacking is easy in a hotel!

Paris was interesting. On our way in on the coach for a sight-seeing tour last night we drove through the NE of Paris which was really very dirty and amazingly disappointing for what supposed to be a beautiful city. Litter and rubbish were all over the footpaths.

Soon later though we were out and climbing the numberous steps to the church of the Sacred Heart. This place is wonderful, you reach the top of the stairs and infront of you is this grandeous domed roof church with statuettes above the entrance welcoming you in. Turn around and you are treated to an amazing view of the city that instantly started to transform my view of the place.

Room 208, Sovereign Hotel
St Denis, Paris, France

2005-07-09T15:30:00.000+10:00

Friday was go go go. The disruptions to the transport system affected us a bit. After the Tower of London we spent 45mins waiting for different busses that just didn't show up before by chance noticing the one we wnated on a different road, and only after that realising we were looking for the wrong station and therefore bus route after all! But apart from that the delay due to congestion was our only drama.

The Tower of London is tops. There are tours through it lead by Yeoman Warders which are really great fun, full of stories and jokes and information. The Crown Jewels are worth it too.
After that we looked around the entrance of St Pauls, and whizzed past Trafalgar Square and a smattering of other standard sights.

Lara got in an hours worth of shopping (much to her distress actually) while I chilled back at the hotstel, before we got all dressed up to go and see The Lion King.
Of the half-dozen or so musicals I've seen, this is by far the best! The production, the costumes, the music, the way they change viewing perspective, it's fantastic!. The cast for our viewing were a bit over it I think, but it was still just great all round.

Up early this morning to leave on the tour. The most representation nation on the bus is Australian, but we've got South Africans (Saffas), Brazillians, Koreans, Malaysians, and American and a Kiwi. It seems like a great bunch actually, and we're cruising along just nicely together at the mo. Our first coach was an hour late (flat tyre) buteventually we were taken to the ferries at Dover where we boarded on foot and enjoyed a top lunch before jumping on board our tour coach in Calais.
We scored with this coach! The one booked for our tour carked it just this morning so we were given a business class coach instead! Nice big seats, groups of 4 with tables, and a bit sound table area at the back (the "love seat").

It's made for a good experience so far, and we're just pulling into our hotel in Paris.

Top Deck Coach
Calais->Paris, France

2005-07-07T21:50:00.000+10:00

Yesterday was a nice and easy day. We chilled out around the house, venturing outside once to wander around the village, and then again later in the evening to head to the next village to be presented with a 1L stein to teach our mates back home about black moss with.

This morning we caught up with a great uncle of ours (grandmother's brother). He's recently broken his hand (and so was unable to see us any earlier) but caught a train in to Nuremburg station where we met him before catching ours from there to Frankfurt Airport. He was easy to spot at the station because of his forearm in plaster and his skin (dark olive) that each of that family have. He was shorter than expected, but also quite lively and good fun. We had no problem making conversatio nfor a couple of hours over coffee and it really set off our Germany stay to be able to spend time with him.

So today. Yes we made it to London just fine. The trains (but not the Underground) were running again except for Kings Cross Station, so were able to catch the Heathrow Express to Paddington and walk the few minutes to our hostel.
We tailed it back to a place we'd passed for pizza, garlic bread and beer for £5 and got even more for our money. The friendly owner gave us lots of great advice (starting with "you know you can walk to Picadilly from here"). He showed us through a guide of musicals that were playing and Lara and I decided to head in and see if we could pick up something at the (very) last minute. His final words were "You've got an umbrella?" so we ducked back to the hostel and grabbed our rain jackets, spending valudable minutes doing so.
Sure enough, only 10mins into our walk the rain started. About 10mins after that we were wondering if the "rain jackets" were part of a practical joke on the part of our uncle and aunt who lent them to us, because both of us were feeling quite wet under them. But still, we were on the path, hope fading but still burning.
We passed streets that were blocked off by police, and every time another 4 police bikes rode past with sirens blaring we chuckled to ourselves at the potential foolishness of the endeavour. And after it all most of the musical halls were closed, as were the ticket-selling outlets, and we were left tired and wet (though actually not very wet under the jackets) and 45mins walk from a bed.
But we are in London! I was kept quite buoyed by that, and Lara was too a little later when she saw some potentially good shops.

So tomorrow. Let's wait and see. It will proabably be that everything we want to see will be closed, which would be a disappointment. I could use another day of sleep, but not right now.

Free Internet Computers at Wake Up Hostel,
Paddington, London, England

2005-07-07T15:30:00.000+10:00

Figuring we should splurge on our folks Lara and I phoned them just now while on the train. Dad answered and after saying he was just about to SMS us he asked if we'd heard about London. We were too slow to pass comment. Dad told us there have been bombings in London town - on Undergrounds and on a bus.

Wow. Talk about adding excitement to expectation. So far we have no official news about what's closed or whatever, so I wonder if we'll even have to fly home early. Or if we'll have to be strip-searched (coming from Cambodia?). Or have to stand up to somenoe suspicious in our travels.

Let you know. Or not, in the worst case.

Car 257, Seat 37
Nuremburg->Frankfurt IC2026

2005-07-05T20:05:00.000+10:00

First and foremost: Black Moss. Take a >1L stein and fill it with 1 part beer and 1 part cola. Add 2 shots of cherry liqueur. Pass around at a party and allow to simmer. Brings life and merriment to any party, and helps bring down language/cultural barriers.
Lara and I were invited along to the birthday party of our hosts’ best friend, which was tonight. Here us green Aussies were introduced to this Franconian cocktail which we enjoyed thoroughly. The people at this party were also lovely and friendly (and patient) with us foreigners.

Today we walked. We walked through Ansbach, through a really great museum; even if it was all auf Deutsch, the building, design of exhibit areas and the items themselves were all interesting and well executed. It’s called the Kasper Hauser museum as it dedicated one section to the story of Kasper Hauser. This guy was found on day in Nuremberg. Just found, walking down the street, popped out of nowhere it seemed. He couldn’t walk properly, couldn’t make conversation, and was carrying a (later identified as a forgery) letter. There were all sorts of official attempts to work out who he was, where he came from and how he came to be so traumatised (it was thought he’d been kept in a cage or small room, hence being unable to walk/talk).
There’s a little more to it though. The year after he was found (this is all early 19th century) he had his first of a few assassination attempts against him, and soon after an unknown but very rich English Lord came to town and inconspicuously took Kasper under his wing, giving him education, shelter and spreading a rumour that he was going to be taken back to England. All this started and fuelled the ideas that Kasper was an heir to the Franconian throne, and a rapidly rising heir seeing as all the others were strangely dying in the recent years.
At any rate, Kasper wasn’t destined for a royal position, he was murdered in Ansbach (lured into the forest bz the promise of information about his true identity) soon after. The police meticulously saved every scrap of evidence, and have recentlz checked his DANN from it against the line he was claimed to be from. The DNA results were inconclusive one way or another, so his identity is still unknown.
The part that made this worth the 2.5 paragraphs of background, at least to me, was the extension or abstraction of Kaiser’s story by which he became a symbol of the actual identity of mankind: "where from and where to".

In the afternoon we walked. At Bad Windsheim there is an open-air museum where almost 100 old buildings from around Middle Franconia have been moved to (disassembled then reassembled). It is quite interesting and can take up a good half day just walking through it. The different livings of the different centuries is shown quite readily and the museum employs people to farm, brew and do whatever else these old Franconians did, the way the old Franconians originally did it. Certainly good value.

Tomorrow is a rest day for us, before we leave for London on Thursday. I was feeling quite flu-y most of today and Lara’s also quite beat so we’re both very thankful for the opportunity to chill and rejuvenate with these wonderful people in their house.
I believe this Friday marks halfway through this journey. This time last week Lara and I had just bid farewell to most of our travelling companions that we had so far. That really feels like another world in another time, and I suppose in that sense, it would be easy from here to not return home. But don’t cry for me Argentina (read: Mum and other soppy friends... Steve?), our feet will find Terra Australis again before the end of the month.

Residence of our family friends,
Heilsbronn, Germany

2005-07-04T21:50:00.000+10:00

Today we saw Nuremberg. Every place we go to has so much history! Nuremberg is a city, so fair enough, you can see the modern Euro-style buildings as you drive around. But in the middle of the city is another city, the old city. It’s comes complete with castle, gothic churches and a few other landmarks of note. What isn’t immediately apparent is that all the houses of the old city are build in the medieval fashion. Some of them are genuinely hundreds of years old, but when it came time to rebuild the city after 90% (literally - you should see the photos!) of it was destroyed in the war, the authorities decided that buildings should be within a certain height range, have the roofs slope at a certain angle, have the long side facing the street, etc etc. So now this inner city is styled from the middle ages.
A third (or something) cousin drove us to Nuremberg and we wandered with her for a bit before we all took a guided tour. This was great, well worth the 10 Euro or so (including castle tour) each. The churches are just amazingly ornate inside, and there’s a story behind each and every part of it, these stories are just great to hear.

It’s really novel for Lara and I as young city Australians to come to a part of Southern Germany and visit villages and cities that have such a rich (known) history that goes back so far. Nuremberg is very close to if not 1000 years old - even the castle there. Just imagining the life there when these towers were new as well as impressive is pretty cool, and the legends and facts that come with it are fantastic. I didn’t even know that the kingdoms of Europe were once (and for centuries) under the rule of emperors. At one stage the empire included as far afield as Mexico - the saying was that the sun never went down on this empire. The empirical palace in Nuremberg (there’s one in every major city of the empire) is not so much exquisitely designed as it is deeply awe inspiring to see and stand where these Kings above Kings once danced or prayed.

Nuremberg also captured me in the form of a frauline (yes a German on an English speaking tour) who was also part of our group. I noticed first that she holds a regal posture, was tightly figured, and had a classic demeanour. And never before have I gained so much from offering "Gesundheit". We shared a charming short while discussing Franconia and beers, comparing our Mandarin abilities (I was hopelessly outgunned after one sentence of course) and generally making playful small talk. When we parted she instructed me to try the beer from her home town, and I promised to think of her when I did. And I will, if I can somehow remember its name.

Residence of our family friends,
Heilsbronn, Germany

2005-07-04T07:30:00.000+10:00

In the afternoon Lara and I were picked up and chauffeured away to the house of a great aunt (the wife of our grandmother’s half-brother) in Neuendettelsau. This was a wonderful afternoon, sitting around the table with this 93 year old lady (still old-school but cheeky) telling us to eat and eat, and three of her children, and two of her grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. Four generations around one big table out on the back patio, it was really nice.
Later in the afternoon some of us (including our great aunt) went for a walk through the town (though they call it a large village only). We stopped and saw the place where our grandmother as a child was kept during the war, a children’s home where she looked after two younger siblings while their parents were interned in Australia (having been taken from Papua New Guinea where they were missionaries). We also wandered around some more, seeing some mission houses and the missionary training centre and such. It was quite a decent walk for a nonagenarian, but she did just fine and quite enjoyed it I think.
For dinner the five of us that remained enjoyed mackerel and salad. I go through a whole fish and it was really quite nice, especially with a dollop of creamed horse radish.

It was such a marvellous time with these people. I’m glad we were able to visit our aunt (who apologised that her husband was no longer with us), and also felt special to be a part of the family gathering.

Today we see Nuremberg.

Residence of our family friends,
Heilsbronn, Germany

2005-07-03T22:30:00.000+10:00

Sunday, so the first thing is church. Not quite what we expected (which was a very traditional service in a big cold church), it was a special "family service" at the place we went, in Burglein. We sat on benches in the lovely sunshine and watched the children act out a story and sang along to a brass band and listened and sang with the children (to the well tuned guitars - a pleasant change for this trip!). The pastor’s message was great: don’t push things away when opportunities arise of if you have a desire; live life today and get out and do it! Our hosts figured this message is for our parents who really must come to visit Germany. It was delivered well by the pastor and included lots of interaction. When he asked "What is something you would do to make yourself happy?" it took a good 5-10mins to get around the whole group (most people had something to say) and after he made his main point (to seize the day), people spoke with the benches around, again for another 5-10mins. Church is so much more integrated into community life in these many small villages, it’s nice to see such a genuinely simple spirituality.

We were given a look inside the church afterwards. Again it is hundreds of years old, and built in a certain style inside which was interesting to see. It’s certainly very much more ornate than anything I’ve seen in Australia, but still felt nice and cosy (despite the size and it being empty at the time).

Lunch was at a nice restaurant just out of Heilsbronn that has a little children’s play area, a large pond with ducks and swans, and an enclosure with rabbits and guinea pigs. Really pleasant atmosphere and nice food beer.

In the afternoon Lara and I had our first meeting with our extended family. A truely memorable occasion but I’m way too tired to write about it now. My fishbone has finally worked its way out of my food pipe into my stomach, and the shower is free: all the sings that I should sleep now and write later.

Residence of our family friends,
Heilsbronn, Germany

2005-07-02T19:45:00.000+10:00

Wow, jetlag sucks. I had 2 hours sleep yesterday afternoon and 12 last night and I’ve still been way out of it today. Spose that happens when you have 2 days (one of them 29hrs long) and don’t sleep between them.
We are really being treated well staying here with friends of the family. Lara and I have our own area (the entire upper storey!), we’re being driven around the countryside, and have certainly been given more than enough to eat!

After working out for ourselves how to catch and find our seat on the train despite the language barrier, we were amused more than once during the trip to see people wander in to our carriage dazedly looking around for "wagen ein und zwanzig ... ... OK. ... Drei und fünfzig.. drei .. und .. fünfzig". One couple even had one of the ticket inspectors sit down, heave a big sigh and tell them that yes they do in fact require a valid ticket and no, being simple-minded is not a valid excuse so please don’t smile at me like that. Or something.
Our feelings of intellectual superiority were short-lived however when we arrived in Nuremberg to find a large train station and no-one to meet us. We waited for over half an hour, looking all over the place before calling and leaving a message on the phone of our friends. A little later we went to the service desk and asked them to page our friends. Less than two minutes later another page come over, this time for us! Laughing to ourselves, I went to the desk and called then number left there for us. Turns out we were supposed to call our friends when we arrived in Frankfurt to confirm our arrival time in Nuremberg. They’d waited for our call, but hadn’t received it so thought we must have changed the day, and they went to work.
Not to worry, just one more hour’s wait (during which anyone could have stolen our luggage or painted our faces while we dozed on and off) and we were headed for Heilsbronn.
We had the energy to take a tour of the town on foot that afternoon, and promptly went to bed after returning to the house.

Today has been great. We spent most of the day at Rothenburg, a nearby town that is hundreds and hundreds of years old (as most places here are - as old as Angkor even) and still has most of the city walls and buildings from over the centuries intact. This place is full of great history and we had a knowledgeable guide (father of our friend) and it really was good fun.

Later in the afternoon we went over to Neuendettelsau for their annual Kirchweih festival. Done traditionally, this festival is great. All the men of the village head out in the morning to find a big old pine tree that must be 30m tall and dead straight. Once found, everybody has a drink. The tree is lopped and stripped of branches except for a tuft at the top, and a wreath is hung about two-thirds of the way up. If the tree’s not straight however, you have to go and find another. Everyone has another drink. The tree is hooked up to a tractor and carried into the middle of the town behind another tractor that carries a band. The tractors drive slowly so the men can walk (while drinking and singing) behind. When they reach the town they put the tree in the ground, erecting it in a slow way leaving much time for singing and drinking. Watch must be kept during the night (fortunately the tree is planted outside a pub) to make sure neighbouring villages (whose men have been having a go with songs of their own all day) don’t chop down or vandalise the tree. Much merriment is had by all.
Today’s effort was less than lackluster. There was very little singing, there was little drinking (except by a few rather drunk bystanders), nobody seemed entirely sure how to erect the tree (I don’t know if using a ladder is part of the custom), and it really was quite boring to watch. Our friends apologised but they had expected it to be not so good because Neuendettelsau is now such a big town. Even from the start things were not good: "Oh no, nobody is wearing a red scarf! See, already this is bullshit!" [said in broken English]. But we did get an idea for how it should be, heard some great tales of how good it is in the smaller villages (there’s one nearly every weekend because each village has their own every summer), and heard a taste of a German jeering song from our driver as we drove off early.

Tonight we have feasted on BBQ’d traditional Franconian sausage. Splendid items they were, just lovely with potato salad and a touch of chili sauce perhaps.

During the day I’ve had a chance to daze and doze during the car trips and I’ve found myself reliving some good times in the recent past (though some were odd: who’s in for a chorus of "Springtime for Hitler"?). So I’m feeling incredibly worn and worse for wear, but I’m obviously happy and comfortable here.

Residence of our family friends,
Heilsbronn, Germany

2005-07-01T06:55:00.000+10:00

Clarke Quay is like a fancy Eagle St Pier (for the Brisbanites), a select number of cafes along the river, most with interesting catch-phrases painted on the front.
Singapore’s national sport is shopping, and Orchard Rd is the place to do it. Kilometers of shopping centres line both sides of this busy road, you can find not only what you want but even how you want to buy it - large David Jones type department store or more one of the more seedy shops over at Lucky Plaza.
Seeing as I was cramping her style (she’d only bought one pair of shoes in the first 90mins, and they were a less than perfect replacement for her all-time favourite pair that just broke) so Lara and I split up for the rest of the day.
Armed with a crash course in How to be Ripped Off When You Think You’re Getting a Bargain from my Cambodian exposure, and feeling rather bored, I started browsing digital cameras. Not to purchase you understand, just for looking. 45mins and two sweaty palms later I’ve come away with a new toy. You be the judge: Konica Minolta DiMAGE Z20 (5 Mega-pixel, 8x Optical Zoom, cats pyjamas of features), mini-tripod, carry case, 128Mb SD card, 4 rechargeable AAs and charger, Lens protector filter and travel power adapter for AU$386 (incl Visa conversion fees). Back to the hotel I went to double-check that it would copy photos to my iPod (it did), and then I decided to walk back over to Orchard Rd.

It was a very pleasant day for Singapore, the cloud cover helped keep it cool. I took a longish way around, including a ‘private road’ that a local told me of but said I should be right because "You’re a tourist". There wasn’t much special about it except the boom-gates (which were all up), and the guards at one innocuous looking place who were more than happy to ignore me completely from the other side of the road.

That evening Lara and I took a cab to the Raffles "The Plaza" and Swissotel "The Stamford" complex. "The Stamford" is the highest building in Singapore at 72 stories, and Level 71 is the "Equinox - New Asia Bar" with views over the whole rest of the city if not country (72 is a mezzanine level for members of some elite club). This bar is fantastic! Go between 6pm and 9pm Sun-Thurs and get 50% off drinks (Sing$10.50 for cocktails and Sing$7.75 for exotic imported beers). Be sure to get there early or be willing to stand (at 6:40pm Lara and I got the last two stools) and be prepared to wait ever so slightly longer than you’d like for service, but it is incredibly worthwhile, even at full drinks prices. Watching the lights of Singapore one-by-one come on while sharing a drink with all sorts of people in a great atmosphere is a must for any traveller who has more than 4 hours stopover here!

OK so now we’re in Germany. The train from the airport was easy enough to find and catch even for those of us who don’t speak the language, though it did take a little nouse and initiative. I was quite disappointed to see it was late to arrive and leave the airport. This has entirely blown my own personal stereotype of Germany out of the water, leaving me in the awkward position of having to form an opinion of the place without my beloved preconceived ideas.
Also, from the train carriage, I’m finding Frankfurt to be not at all very clean. It seems every time I turn my head to look out Lara’s window there’s another causeway or barn with graffiti on it, or an ugly building like a power station or Frankfurt Central Train Station.
The train ride is lovely and smooth though, and I think I’ll have a nap and dream of what I’d like Bavaria (we’re going to the area of Franconia) to be like when we step off the train in less than two hours.

Seat 91, Car 21
ICE825 Frankfurt - Nuremberg

2005-07-01T06:25:00.000+10:00

Taxis in Singapore are great value. They’re cheap, abundant and the drivers are privy to a wealth of information and opinions that neither Lara nor I had. After our first decent (ie includes cereal and milk) breakfast in a while we decided to go see Singapore’s Merlion park. Not much to waste your time on there, just a big statue of a mer-lion spitting water out its mouth. A quick photo then over to Chinatown.
Chinatown is quite similar to what I imagine Chinatowns all over the world to be like, except perhaps with more Indian taylors and cheap trinket shops. One thing we noticed was how friendly the salespeople on the street are. Being accosted by these people was quite a pleasure. They come out and shake your hand and call you good sir and beam brightly when you return the greeting. A smooth flow of comforting tones flows from their mouth as they ask you where you’re from, comment on how beautiful that country is, not to mention your lady companion, and isn’t $40 amazingly cheap for a washable silk shirt.
We were too early at Chinatown to see the mass of food shops and stalls along Smith St open up, but that was OK, we chuffed off to Clarke Quay.

Fleis 4,
Frankfurt am Main Flughafen fernbahnhoff

2005-06-29T23:40:00.000+10:00

What came next for this trip was Singapore.
But not before Lara and I had a few hours to ourselves around Siem Reap again. We went for a body massage just after checkout. Khmer massage is fun for a guy (the girl's one seems completely different) because the massage girl is much smaller and gets herself in all sorts of positions to yank and squeeze and thump on your body. I was privelaged to a short lesson in Khmer from my bubbly friendly body rubber, mostly words like "pale skin" and "chest hair".

After our final lunch at Shadow of Angkor we ducked over to the supermaket for some snacks with the last of our USD. Unfortunately I spend the very last of my USD when I was supposed to save $1 for the tuk-tuk to the airport. You can picture the lively scene at the Union Commercial Bank when a big dumb foreigner wanders in and asks to withdraw $1 from his Visa card. Luckily they don't charge fees there.

So off to the airport and up and away to Singapore. On the plane we met a friendly young American girl who gave us some great tips for what to do in 24hrs in this city, which was most helpful.

In some ways I still haven't left Cambodia. It's still "Arkun" for "thankyou" and Lara and I are struggling with the "water from the tap can be clean enough to drink" concept. But Singapore is very impressive at night and a day of retail therapy tomorrow sould snap us back into 1st world mode, for better or for worse.

Room 919, Fort Canning Lodge
Singapore

2005-06-28T15:35:00.000+10:00

Sunday night we went to “Bayon II” restaurant (not “Bayon” or “The New Bayon”) for some pretty good buffet dinner and some traditional dancing. It was worth going for sure, you’d be silly to come this far to another culture and not plonk yourself front and centre for an hour’s worth of entertainment Khmer style. Old-school traditional (we saw similar outfits in 800yr old carvings the next day) as well as some more modern styles were performed, each one either very clever (how far can your fingers bend themselves backwards?) or telling a nice story (eg young romance between fishers).

Recommended viewing.

Monday morning and we’re off to see one of the 7 Wonder of the World, the temples at Angkor!

US$20 seems like a lot (especially when you lose your ticket ad have to buy another, like one of our group) when everything else here is so cheap, but it really is top value for such a privilege. Throw in a tuk-tuk driver for the day (mandatory), lunch, and elephant ride, and a bob up and down in a hot-air balloon (we skipped that one) and for under US$60 you’ve had a day of your life you’ll be telling your great-grandkids about and still grinning widely reminiscing.

Built in the 1100s these temples are really something else. Angkor Thom is a largish area with quite a few buildings through it (it’s a few square kms large), the highlights of which is the Bayon temple, where you’ll find all the great pillars (each one is a room) with a Buddha’s face on each of the four sides. Phreah Kahn, the Terrace of the Elephants and Thommanom are all worth checking out, and we didn’t have time to see everything.

The highlight is of course Angkor Wat. This place is just out of this world, even the outside bridge over the moat and gate are impressive before the ~1km concourse before reaching the actual temple. Inside, inscriptions and impressively ornate carvings are everywhere, and these are just the ones that are left!

Inside further is like an inner-temple but to get to it you have to scale up 3 or 4 stories worth of very steep steps (two hands for beginners on these old worn steps). At the top the view is every bit as splendid as you could expect.

(Our group was feeling very beat after lunch. We told our tuk-tuk driver we’d just and have a quick squiz at Angkor Wat, retire to our hotel for a couple of hours recovery, then return for sunset. Ha! We spent 2 hours inside, including climbing and walking non-stop.)

More creative writers than I can better express how impressive this all is – even though it is incredibly worn and most of the more ornate stone carvings are lost, let alone whatever gold or silk or timber that was part of the original (and alas no 12^th century photos have survived).

Go and see Angkor. Stay in Siem Reap a few days and go. Do it soon, next year, next month maybe, while this place is still cheap and friendly. You will forever treasure the experience.

Which brings us to today.

We saw the landmine museum this morning. Not your traditional type of museum, this is out in a poor part of town, a shack and a little land where an ex Khmer Rouge soldier called Aki Ra has on display all types of landmines, booby traps and other unexploded objects that he himself has dug-up using nothing more than sticks. When he was young, Aki Ra was made to plant mine for the Khmer Rouge, but now he takes in young landmine victim children who all live and have schooling here at this place. If you go there you will see the kids running around missing a limb or two (but still able to slingshot a rat out of a tree with one go!) and most of them are more than happy to how you through the place: each type of device and how traps are laid and how mines are recovered, and to tell you his own story too. This place is great because is displays a lot about Cambodia’s recent history, but also shows you the nature of these beautiful people. It’s free to go and you’re mad not to see it and come away with a souvenir or two.

One more lunch with our group before half of this team heads off. We devoured our lovely Western food from “Shadow of Angkor” where we’re now regulars and it was back to the hotel for goodbyes.

This is just about the end of a significant chapter for Lara and I on this trip. Last night the group shared our thoughts to each other and I said that I was disappointed to be struck down when it came to the crux of the trip – even the one day I had with the people I felt very off in the head and the illness tainted my opinion of Tbeng Meanchey. {Just read those last journal entries…} However, I would never have not come, and I would dearly love to come back and do it again properly. Such is how much I enjoyed and gained from the experience as a whole despite the negatives.

We were warned before coming that this sort of trip changes a person. I think it’s easy to say I’ve been changed even already, and we haven’t returned home yet.

To me this change in itself is wonderful because it opens up a whole new element of life, and so much more opportunity and potential. It’s exciting to think what might come next from this.

Room 144, Sakura Villa,
Siem Reap, Siem Reap,
Cambodia

2005-06-27T21:40:00.000+10:00

Sunday morning saw us up and leaving Preah Vihear bright and early. Ours was the only car of 4 to opt to hit the road at 7:30am instead of going to one of the churches nearby.

The drive wasn’t anywhere near as enjoyable as the one to Tbeng Meanchey, but the road was smoother and the trip was only 3 hours, and we were just glad to arrive somewhere and have a sleep.

Siem Reap is different to Phnom Penh and really is the opposite end of the Cambodian spectrum to Tbeng Meanchey. This place is full of tourists (even though it’s supposedly low season) and a surprising number of very very swanky hotels! Ours is really quite nice for the price though.

Room 351, Sakura Villa,
Siem Reap, Siem Reap,
Cambodia

2005-06-26T13:44:00.000+10:00

The dinner was lovely, but either that meal or (more likely) the one at lunch earlier was entirely upsetting for my digestive system. Over the 11 hours between 10pm Thurs and 9am Fri I made no less than 7 trips to the toilet – each one in quite a hurry. And as yet another indication that bad things come to those to try new things, our toilet (which was progressively having more and more trouble flushing) finally choked and stopped draining completely. Not too late into the night I jumped up to go, but my previous flush wasn’t flushed.
Bang Bang Bang! Was me on the door across the hall. "We're in bed!" called Lara; ever the curt one. Some gentle coaxing in the form of moaning and thumping roused her to open the door just far enough for be to bowl her over and shut myself in her toilet for some momentary relief. It wasn't the type of relief I expected thought; the strain in my intestinal region passed itself to my stomach which subsequently went out (the other end) in sympathy. This continued through the night, I would get around an hour's worth of reprieve after each bout.
Come morning I was quite fed up with the whole affair and resolved to at least keep down the medication, which I finally succeeded at. Every disease likes to kick a man when he's down and the fever is no different, hitting me during the day with enough intensity to give severe discomfort but fortunately not enough severity to warrant more than copious quantities of drugs and moving my bed under the fan. It too passed in a few hours.

During the day I was afforded one amusing scene however. Our room stank like shit that had been left to sit overnight (funnily enough) and my roommate Bruce (permission to use name granted) took it upon himself to see that someone fix our toilet and the air-contents of the room be returned to predominantly breathable elements once again. He spoke to the wife of the hotel owner/manager/handyman/boor when he left in the morning, explaining the problem and mentioning also that there was still someone resting in the room. He got a "ah yeah, happens all the time, no worries" sort of wave and chuffed off. When he returned at lunch time the smell of the room had vastly improved (I could open the window and door easily enough) but the source of the problem was not yet addressed. Being the follow-through type of guy that he is, Bruce again trudged the two flights down to have another crack at procuring assistance. Downstairs it seems that they did understand the problem, but didn't fix it because there was somebody in the room. Better to leave them suffocate on methane perhaps.
Making it clear that no this person resting upstairs won't infect them with a deadly disease, but yes he might soon pass on himself if left with the toilet in its current state, the wife of the family team followed him back up to the room. Apparently her husband gave her a dismissive "you take care of it" wave to send her up, and was disgruntled to miss even that much TV wrestling.
After assuring her that my friendly gestures to welcome her into the room were not contagious scramblings of a madman, she came in and Bruce left us.
No problem, let's have a look.
She lifted the lid only the microsecond required to assess the situation and in one fluid motion reeled backwards and reached forward to flush the toilet (because we wouldn't have tried that of course). This incited mild palpitations in my chest because my rough calculations suggested the volume already in the bowl plus the volume added by the flush was greater than the total volume of the bowl. I was relieved to be mistaken in this case, but I must have been close.
This was the extent of her problem solving abilities apparently so she left the room again, leaving me feeling rather jipped. But only for a short while, she returned momentarily and again made for the bathroom, in a manner that gave me deja-vu. She wasn't going to do the same thing again though, it would be ludicrous to lift that lid again. I know, let's just give it another flush.
In this poor lady's defence I should here mention that she was already under a decent level of pressure from her partner downstairs, and the intoxication of sniffing what was under that lid would have shortened a fair number of synapses too. Stressed people make mistakes.
Before I could slap my hand on my face the dreaded blurble-blurble-blurble started as this most wretchedly odious matter oozed from the lid. With lightning reflexes and a child-like manner of guilt she reached for the shower rose to try and wash away her faux pax.
Just at that moment her magnanimous husband, appeared at the door. Had I been more attentive I might have been able to learn the Khmer for "What the f#*&?". The mild condescending berating that followed was amusement enough for my feebled mind, but what really set it off was the internationally recognisable facial expression that he through to me, saying what real men everywhere say whenever they get the chance: "the stupid woman" (complete with semi-roll of the eyes).
Mr Machismo then shooed his wife away, inspected the scene inside the bathroom, left to get some utensils (making sure to look me in the eye while wiping his feet on our bathroom mat on his way out), returned and got the job done in a few short minutes. I was relieved to see him carrying a bottle of disinfectant when he left (though I'm not sure if he used it or if it was just a prop), but ever much more relieved to be able to relieve myself there one again.

Room 23, "Prum Tep Guest House"
Tbeng Meanchey, Preah Vihear province
Cambodia

2005-06-25T21:10:00.000+10:00

I think I’ve worked something out. I can made do with either my health, something to do (a purpose, or even “chill”), or being somewhere I feel at home. Here on my own this evening (I passed on dinner because of not feeling well) I felt I had none of these. I was feeling very poorly again (head and stomach), had nothing to drive myself with (the main mission is over, and we’re just waiting to leave), and I was not in a place I feel comfortable in. I was a bit of a mess and the Khmer music that seems to constantly play in the background {I since found out it was wedding music that plays non-stop for 3 days after a wedding} was driving me nuts. I used the iPod recorder for the first time, and all it was for was my own poor feelings. I had an interesting few hours of headspace, but began to come to terms with life again after listening to some of MY music (for the first time since leaving) and reading some good immersive Pratchett and Bryson.

This time of feeling ill and down will pass.

Room 23, "Prum Tep Guest House"
Tbeng Meanchey, Preah Vihear province
Cambodia

2005-06-25T15:50:00.000+10:00

This afternoon we have to ourselves, and tomorrow we leave for Siem Reap. I can’t say right now that I’ll be sad to leave.

Some of us wandered around the local market place briefly. The whole area was quite large and very dank and not nice. It’s not at all like the comparatively tourist-friendly markets of Phnom Penh. It was a hard shock again that in a real sense this is a depressing place, and after a very intense few days we had just started to unwind so the shock was hard to take. One area (surprisingly, not the raw meat) conjured up memories of my illness and made me feel queasy so we left after a short while.

Now I’m tired physically from fighting for my health, tired mentally from finding simple and interpreter-friendly answers to a stream of curly questions, tired emotionally from hearing and relating with these lovely eager and hard to refuse people, tired spiritually from straining to keep upbeat and missing time on my own in a comfortable place.

Home of the local World Vision Director
Tbeng Meanchey, Preah Vihear province
Cambodia

2005-06-25T14:00:00.000+10:00

By the evening I was able to keep down drugs and to sleep, both of which I indulged in. The next morning I tottered to breakfast and started the day with half an eternal roll. These bread rolls are made from some wonderful stuff in a magic way that enables the seller to always tell you they’re fresh, because never actually go stale. Marvellous invention this UHT bread.

Our original brief for this trip was that we would help out by labouring on the house-cum-community centre. A week before we left however, the local people decided that they were quite able to build houses thank you very much, but they would like some theological instruction if you don’t mind, and by the way we’re inviting 150 people from outer regions too. Most of us were utterly unprepared for this, and certainly not overly qualified. But this is how it was to be done, as the community wanted it.

The previous day while I was going on the psychological journey of every ill person left to their own devices, the rest of the team divided themselves into which groups they would take: World Vision Staff, pastors & lay-leaders, younger people, and fence builders. The fence builders did actually build a good long fence; the only ones who did any real work. . The rest of the groups had fun answering questions like “Who is God anyway?”, “What is Grace?”, “Why does God love sinners?”, “Why did God make Satan?” and many more.

I slotted in with the younger crowd on the Friday when I’d returned to health. I was disappointed to see the sessions seemed to take on a school-teacher sort of vibe on the part of our team leading, but the participants didn’t seem too bothered.

I had the chance to lead a session in the afternoon and I took on quite an ambitious, but I thought very important passage on freedom. Gal 5:1-13 is a beautiful piece of writing where Paul tells the good people of Galatia that Christ set them spiritually free entirely, from sin and death, but also from The Law (of the Israelites; circumcision is the symbol of The Law, as mentioned in the passage) and any regulations. There are zero requirements for becoming and staying a Christian of freedom. The key observation is that if this freedom is used to sin then we are once again slaves; rather our freedom is to server others. I thought this was pertinent because during the earlier sessions a few things were said by the participants that suggested that they felt pressured to do or not do some things in order to be “right with God”. Anyway, it took some slog, including a brief history of Israel and some doubling back (the interpreter saying “yes we understand: we must go to church”. Slap head. OK let’s try another angle) but hopefully some good seed was planted. They related well to the encouragement given from the fact that Paul was imprisoned and being persecuted at the time for preaching such radical freedom.

Our good mate the interpreter later told me that it wasn’t too advanced for some, and one of our group’s pastors who has experience here said it was worth tackling because of the legalism being taught everywhere here.

Certainly the sessions were integral in both our experience and that of the local people. Even those dis-interested in the content took the opportunity to practice their English.

We did a session on the Christian creed that unites all denominations around the world and across time also. We gave encouragement to those struggling with faith – both to continue with struggles in an honest way no matter the outcome (you should be sure, whatever you believe), and to not feel at all ashamed that you want to ask questions – in fact that should be encouraged of all people always.

Lunches and dinners have been provided for us here – provided for all people who came for the few days. After dinner is always an hour or more of full-on church. These Cambodians get into their singing and clapping and stuff, and good on them. Kind of wears out us Westerners who have already had long days trying to not act as gurus while trying to cover hundreds of questions.

Today was a big day. There was a Ribbon Cutting Ceremony for the Community Centre, followed by a big Holy Communion service, followed by a wedding! The wedding was a happy shamozzle all over. Many things about it were Western, but there was also a nice Khmer flavour that the photos show nicely.

Room 23, "Prum Tep Guest House"
Tbeng Meanchey, Preah Vihear province
Cambodia