Jez and I woke up feeling better than average (as again we had toned done the festivities and gone to bed at a reasonable hour). We promptly checked out of the hostel and headed to the train station to hit up Amiens and get us some good ole world war history. On the way to the train station we went through some markets. This is only worth mentioning as it seems we are always trying to ease our way through some city's markets everywhere we go.
The train ride was very picturesque as we travelled through the Belgian and French countryside. We changed at a few stations that were in the middle of nowhere and before we knew it we were in Amiens at around 3pm.
Amiens is a town in Northern France; and if you ever want to go there remember this: no one speaks English. We had now met our first true language barrier! (Unfortunately no photos were taken of this momentous occasion).
As per tradition, we had no idea where the hostel was (we couldn't even make a booking online). So we set off blindly trying to find either the hostel itself or an internet cafe. We found neither. After up to an hour of searching (with out backpacks on), we came up bagel (a.k.a nothing). Dejected, we made our way back to the train station only to find an internet cafe right next door. Jez looked up the phone number of the hostel and the address on Google maps and off we set once again. We tried calling the hostel numerous times but never got an answer (After a while we realised the phone number was completely useless as we wouldnt have been able to talk to the receptionist anyway). The address was something like Squares Des Quattre Chenes.
Whilst walking in the direction as shown on Google maps, we again got caught up in some markets (wtf?). The problem with these ones was that construction at one point meant that, at one stage, there was only space for literally 3 or 4 people to pass through at one time. This caused what can affectionately be described as a 'bottle neck'. So, to recap, we are in a strange city where we dont speak the language, and we are trying to get through a very tight squeeze.... with our backpacks on. It was mayhem. We tried to move with the crowd but stuck out like 2 sore thumbs. Whilst I was tripping over prams and making babies cry, Jez was sending old ladies with walking frames flying. Eventually we got through said bottle neck and we were on our way.
We got to the point which Google maps had described and didn't see anything that remotely resembled a hostel. So, in our fluent French, we started asking where it was. Luckily the name of the hostel translated to 'Amiens Youth Hostel' which made it a bit easier. We met this French couple who spoke less English than our French, but knew where the Square Des Quattre Chenes was. We walked for a kilometre (through some more markets) with no communication besides me asking if they spoke English to which they replied: Non.
It was obvious on our walk out to Square Des Quattre Chenes that the people of Amiens were not used to backpackers as we got a number of strange looks. After a while, the French couple pointed to a square which was obviously where we needed to go. After a lot of 'Merci's' we started looking for the hostel. This turned out to be easier said then done. We circumvented the square, only to realise that nothing looked remotely like a hostel. We therefore started asking random people on the street. Eventually, we found someone that did speak English (Yes, thats right, we found the needle in the haystack). Unfortunately she was useless and had no idea where the hostel was either.
Jez and I widened our search to include streets surrounding the square, and found a building that looked like it could be a hostel. It turned out it was a retirement home. I went in to ask someone who worked there if they knew where the hostel was. I walked straight through the front door and the only people I could see where ones that were paying to be there. I had a look around a few corners, but still nothing (We could have crashed there for the night and noone would have known). As I was walking out I ran into a guy who pointed us to a building just across the road. He was able to describe the building as 'Young home' as compared to the 'Old home' we were standing in front of.
With a renewed vigour, Jez and I set off to the 'Young Home'. Only to be disappointed once again. The 'Young home' was in fact university housing. By this stage, our patience with Amiens was wearing thin. We spoke to one of the uni students living in the housing who pointed us to a building which Jez and I definitely knew was not a hostel. Idiot.
We decided to try a bunch of paramedics that were hanging outside one of the buildings. We had limited success with one of the guys (who spoke English), but he had to duck off to some sort of emergency.
After that, we were resigned to the fact that this hostel did not exist and that all of Amiens and France were against us. So, we started the long walk back into town where Jez decided to try an Australian pub that we had seen earlier in the day. He went into the pub and asked the bartender if he spoke any English. He got a response in french. However, Jez was able to mime that he wanted a cheap bed and found someone at the bar sort of did speak English, and before you knew it, Jez had the entire bar trying to find us a cheap hotel to stay in. People had their iPhones out and one guy even pulled out the yellow pages. Jez can even win over the French.
Soon enough, we had a few hotels to try. We walked the rest of the way into town and found one that seemed nice enough. We had a bit of difficulties/fun with the chick at reception trying to book a room and a french/English hybrid language, but we eventually got there.
We got to out room, took our backpacks off (for what felt like the first time in 3 years) had unbelievably refreshing showers (loved the fresh towels), grabbed some quick dinner and went to bed.
It was one of the longest days travelling we had done thus far. We were both 10 kilos lighter and had a new found respect for people that can speak more than one language.
Au revoir,
Monty
Monday, June 29, 2009
June 27 - Leuven to Brussels
I woke up feeling pretty angry. Given that we had stayed in and relaxed the night before I thought I was justified in expecting a good night's sleep. Instead my night was filled with uncomfortable sweating due to the oppressive muggy heat, the constant whine of mosquitoes buzzing around my ears, the sounds of Monty's nightly sinus symphony and the truly disturbing mental image of Peter, the fat, semi-naked Dutchman with whom we were sharing a room. So it was with less than my usual vigour that I gorged myself on the free hostel breakfast, though my mood was brightened significantly when I discovered that they had real juice, not the reconstituted, cordial tasting "juice" offered up by many other hostels. With not a great deal planned for the day Monty and I set out to find somewhere to watch the Wallabies test. This ended up being a massive wild goose chase with a series of publicans directing us in broken English from one pub to the next with the ultimate conclusion that we ended up outside an Irish pub that was shut at midday on a saturday. What is this world coming to? Suffice to say that we did not see a single minute of the game.
Monty was not at all happy about this but he was hungry so we set out to get food, specifically pizza. At this point another wild goose chase began. The place that our maps had reccommended was inexplicably shut and after some fairly aimless wandering we stumbled upon another place which fit the bill but we consoled ourselves by having pizza for lunch and enjoying another game of backgammon. It was at about this time that we decided that we would go and watch the Lions test at the Irish bar before heading to the train station and making our way to Brussels. The game was thoroughly enjoyable as was the atmosphere in the pub with both the Lions and South African supporters engaging in plenty of friendly banter. We then grabbed our bags from the hostel and headed to the train station to buy tickets to take us to Brussels. It was at this point that we found a couple of tickets sitting on the ticket machine, labeled Leuven to Brussels and which did not look like they had been validated. Given that it was only a short journey we decided to take our chances and jumped on the train with our fortuitously acquired tickets in hand. This went off without a hitch and soon enough we were pulling into Brussels Noord Station.
At this point another wild goose chase began. Given that we had neither booked a hostel, nor could we find the station we were standing at on a map, we concluded that we must be to the north of the maps that we had with us. So, using the sun as a guide (quite seriously) we made our way south and our collective directional sense turned out to be correct and we were soon entering mapped territory. This preliminary task completed, we headed for the closest hostel (which was still quite a long way away) only to find that it was completely booked out. So we went to the next closest hostel. Full. So we went to the next closest hostel. Full. Who would have thought it would be so hard to find a bed in Brussels - a place notorious for being boring? By this point, we were hot, sweaty, tired and exhausted and only had one more chance - a hostel on the other side of town. There was nothing for it but to walk. Thankfully, when we arrived we were told that they only had one room left, and it was a double. So, we booked in and went and collapsed on our beds. We had a fair bit of stuff ot organise though so we jumped on our laptops and made the most of the free WiFi that we had been trying to get our hands on for most of the previous week.
After showering and funning up, we went for a wander to see what the nightlife had to offer and were pleasantly surprised, grabbing pita pockets from a street vendor and winding up sipping on delicious beers in a really cool bar overlooking a popular square. For once though, common sense was the winner and after a few quiet beers we headed home (not via a kebab shop) and were tucked up in bed by about 1:30.
Despite all the chasing of wild geese, it was a pretty funny day and a good way to finish off our time in Belgium. Tomorrow to France!
Jez
Monty was not at all happy about this but he was hungry so we set out to get food, specifically pizza. At this point another wild goose chase began. The place that our maps had reccommended was inexplicably shut and after some fairly aimless wandering we stumbled upon another place which fit the bill but we consoled ourselves by having pizza for lunch and enjoying another game of backgammon. It was at about this time that we decided that we would go and watch the Lions test at the Irish bar before heading to the train station and making our way to Brussels. The game was thoroughly enjoyable as was the atmosphere in the pub with both the Lions and South African supporters engaging in plenty of friendly banter. We then grabbed our bags from the hostel and headed to the train station to buy tickets to take us to Brussels. It was at this point that we found a couple of tickets sitting on the ticket machine, labeled Leuven to Brussels and which did not look like they had been validated. Given that it was only a short journey we decided to take our chances and jumped on the train with our fortuitously acquired tickets in hand. This went off without a hitch and soon enough we were pulling into Brussels Noord Station.
At this point another wild goose chase began. Given that we had neither booked a hostel, nor could we find the station we were standing at on a map, we concluded that we must be to the north of the maps that we had with us. So, using the sun as a guide (quite seriously) we made our way south and our collective directional sense turned out to be correct and we were soon entering mapped territory. This preliminary task completed, we headed for the closest hostel (which was still quite a long way away) only to find that it was completely booked out. So we went to the next closest hostel. Full. So we went to the next closest hostel. Full. Who would have thought it would be so hard to find a bed in Brussels - a place notorious for being boring? By this point, we were hot, sweaty, tired and exhausted and only had one more chance - a hostel on the other side of town. There was nothing for it but to walk. Thankfully, when we arrived we were told that they only had one room left, and it was a double. So, we booked in and went and collapsed on our beds. We had a fair bit of stuff ot organise though so we jumped on our laptops and made the most of the free WiFi that we had been trying to get our hands on for most of the previous week.
After showering and funning up, we went for a wander to see what the nightlife had to offer and were pleasantly surprised, grabbing pita pockets from a street vendor and winding up sipping on delicious beers in a really cool bar overlooking a popular square. For once though, common sense was the winner and after a few quiet beers we headed home (not via a kebab shop) and were tucked up in bed by about 1:30.
Despite all the chasing of wild geese, it was a pretty funny day and a good way to finish off our time in Belgium. Tomorrow to France!
Jez
26th June - Leuven
As it has now become accustomed after a rather large night out, Jez and I woke when the sun was at the highest point in the sky. We had vague recollections of what had transpired the night before and decided to roll out of bed and had a stroll around town.
For our breakfast/lunch we had hot chips with mayonnaise. This was the result of one of the many inebriated conversations we had the night before with some of the Belgians we met. We had incorrectly assumed that the Belgian fries we had been seeing around town were exactly the same as the Dutch ones we saw in Amsterdam. When we told the Belgians this, we were assaulted with a barrage of reasons why the Belgian fries were better and how the Dutch had stolen the concept from them. So, with this in mind we headed off to the nearest fries shop to satisfy our curiosity. What we found was that the Belgian fries tasted exactly the same as the Dutch fries. Crazy Belgians.
There are these really cool free maps for tourists which set out, among other things, the cheap eateries, places to go out at night and sights to see. According to our maps, there was a giant beetle which was on top a giant needle in the courtyard outside the library, a place which we had walked through at least 4 times the day before. So after our healthy breakfast/lunch we set off. What we found was a massive beetle atop a massive needle smack bang in the middle of the courtyard. How we failed to see this yesterday still remains a mystery. Even a blind man could see this thing. We took a few photos of us looking utterly perplexed and then headed to the outskirts of town, where are maps told us there was a giant statue of the Virgin Mary.
We got there to find the statue surrounded by trees (almost a forest) and a 3-4 metre high wall. We could just see the top of Mary’s head so we tried to get into the fortress by seeing if there was an entrance. Unfortunately there wasn’t, so we decided to walk back to the hostel by the Stella beer factory. This proved to be a mistake. The Stella factory is no Guinness or Heineken. It’s set in an industrial area of the city and the smell did nothing to appease our bodies.
We got back to the hostel and decided it was time for dinner. We tried going to the place we had been the night before (it was shut). We also tried going to a place was had the cheapest pizza in town (it was a one and a half hour wait). So we ended up getting half a chicken each for 4 Euros, and it was delicious.
Throughout the day it should also be mentioned that we spoke separately with Baz and Carl, both of whom where at Friday night drinks (in different cities) and who both had a sudden urge to call us. Thanks guys, it was good to chat to you!
After dinner we got back to find that there was now someone else in our 4 bed hostel room. He introduced himself as Peter from Amsterdam. To give you guys a bit of a visual of Peter, he is probably late 20’s, very pale and has a good pot belly going on. Anyway, as we all were getting ready for bed, Peter takes off almost all of his clothes, except for a pair of white underpants. That’s right, he was sporting the tightie-whities. He chucked on a white shirt and promptly hopped into bed; only to reconsider 3 seconds later. He hopped out of bed, pulled off his shirt and put on other, almost identical white shirt and hopped into bed. At this stage Jez and I are trying very hard to somehow blind ourselves and/or trying not to laugh. It was a great image to try to get to sleep with.
All in all, we had a cheap and fun filled day.
Cheers,
Monty
For our breakfast/lunch we had hot chips with mayonnaise. This was the result of one of the many inebriated conversations we had the night before with some of the Belgians we met. We had incorrectly assumed that the Belgian fries we had been seeing around town were exactly the same as the Dutch ones we saw in Amsterdam. When we told the Belgians this, we were assaulted with a barrage of reasons why the Belgian fries were better and how the Dutch had stolen the concept from them. So, with this in mind we headed off to the nearest fries shop to satisfy our curiosity. What we found was that the Belgian fries tasted exactly the same as the Dutch fries. Crazy Belgians.
There are these really cool free maps for tourists which set out, among other things, the cheap eateries, places to go out at night and sights to see. According to our maps, there was a giant beetle which was on top a giant needle in the courtyard outside the library, a place which we had walked through at least 4 times the day before. So after our healthy breakfast/lunch we set off. What we found was a massive beetle atop a massive needle smack bang in the middle of the courtyard. How we failed to see this yesterday still remains a mystery. Even a blind man could see this thing. We took a few photos of us looking utterly perplexed and then headed to the outskirts of town, where are maps told us there was a giant statue of the Virgin Mary.
We got there to find the statue surrounded by trees (almost a forest) and a 3-4 metre high wall. We could just see the top of Mary’s head so we tried to get into the fortress by seeing if there was an entrance. Unfortunately there wasn’t, so we decided to walk back to the hostel by the Stella beer factory. This proved to be a mistake. The Stella factory is no Guinness or Heineken. It’s set in an industrial area of the city and the smell did nothing to appease our bodies.
We got back to the hostel and decided it was time for dinner. We tried going to the place we had been the night before (it was shut). We also tried going to a place was had the cheapest pizza in town (it was a one and a half hour wait). So we ended up getting half a chicken each for 4 Euros, and it was delicious.
Throughout the day it should also be mentioned that we spoke separately with Baz and Carl, both of whom where at Friday night drinks (in different cities) and who both had a sudden urge to call us. Thanks guys, it was good to chat to you!
After dinner we got back to find that there was now someone else in our 4 bed hostel room. He introduced himself as Peter from Amsterdam. To give you guys a bit of a visual of Peter, he is probably late 20’s, very pale and has a good pot belly going on. Anyway, as we all were getting ready for bed, Peter takes off almost all of his clothes, except for a pair of white underpants. That’s right, he was sporting the tightie-whities. He chucked on a white shirt and promptly hopped into bed; only to reconsider 3 seconds later. He hopped out of bed, pulled off his shirt and put on other, almost identical white shirt and hopped into bed. At this stage Jez and I are trying very hard to somehow blind ourselves and/or trying not to laugh. It was a great image to try to get to sleep with.
All in all, we had a cheap and fun filled day.
Cheers,
Monty
June 25 - Bruges to Leuven
Monty and I woke up and wasted little time in packing our gear and hitting the road. We briefly considered going to the hostel breakfast, but given it cost 3 Euro and we were still digesting the mountain of pasta from the night before, we decided to give it a miss. Instead we made a beeline for the train station, though we did stop to sample a little more Belgian culture in the form of waffles and chocolate. On the advice of a guy we met in the hostel in Glasgow, we decided to head for a town called Leuven which is the biggest uni town in Belgium and given their exams have just finished, supposed to be a good place to party.
Upon arriving in town and having a look at the tourist maps provided by the hostel it certainly seemed to live up to its billing with a large student population and a street that the locals refer to as "the longest bar in Europe" as it is literally side-by-side bars for close to a hundred metres. There was nothing for it but to go for a wander around the town and though Leuven does not have the reputation of Brussels or Bruges, it certainly had some impressive buildings in the middle of town. Perhaps the most impressive of these was the university library which looked like some sort of medieval castle. It is saying quite a bit to say that this library looked as good as Fisher Library does bad. By mid-afternoon however, we were getting pretty tired so we headed back to the hostel so I could have a kip and Monty could read his book.
By the time dinner rolled around it dawned on the two of us that we had not eaten a proper meal all day so we were keen to go and find some good cheap food. With the help of our maps we were able to find what was definitely the cheapest meal of the trip to date. Though it was supposed to be more expensive given we are not students at the uni, we were able to get big plates of food for less than 3 euro. Definitely a bargain! Following this we headed to the Oude Markt, the street with all the bars, and were happy to see that there was a big crowd massing for the "students' goodbye". It was at this point that we ran into Michiel, the guy who had reccommended Leuven to us in the first place and to celebrate the coincidence we had a Stella Artois (which is the local beer). Many more Stellas were to follow and despite neither Monty nor myself being able to speak any Flemish or French at all we managed to meet a whole range of people. I'm not entirely sure how this happened but I'd imagine that it must have been some combination of Dutch courage and our devilish good looks. Neither Monty nor myself are entirely sure what time we headed home but I do know that there was a kebab involved and am fairly confident that the sky was beginning to brighten in the east.
We are continuing to do Australia proud...
Jez
Upon arriving in town and having a look at the tourist maps provided by the hostel it certainly seemed to live up to its billing with a large student population and a street that the locals refer to as "the longest bar in Europe" as it is literally side-by-side bars for close to a hundred metres. There was nothing for it but to go for a wander around the town and though Leuven does not have the reputation of Brussels or Bruges, it certainly had some impressive buildings in the middle of town. Perhaps the most impressive of these was the university library which looked like some sort of medieval castle. It is saying quite a bit to say that this library looked as good as Fisher Library does bad. By mid-afternoon however, we were getting pretty tired so we headed back to the hostel so I could have a kip and Monty could read his book.
By the time dinner rolled around it dawned on the two of us that we had not eaten a proper meal all day so we were keen to go and find some good cheap food. With the help of our maps we were able to find what was definitely the cheapest meal of the trip to date. Though it was supposed to be more expensive given we are not students at the uni, we were able to get big plates of food for less than 3 euro. Definitely a bargain! Following this we headed to the Oude Markt, the street with all the bars, and were happy to see that there was a big crowd massing for the "students' goodbye". It was at this point that we ran into Michiel, the guy who had reccommended Leuven to us in the first place and to celebrate the coincidence we had a Stella Artois (which is the local beer). Many more Stellas were to follow and despite neither Monty nor myself being able to speak any Flemish or French at all we managed to meet a whole range of people. I'm not entirely sure how this happened but I'd imagine that it must have been some combination of Dutch courage and our devilish good looks. Neither Monty nor myself are entirely sure what time we headed home but I do know that there was a kebab involved and am fairly confident that the sky was beginning to brighten in the east.
We are continuing to do Australia proud...
Jez
Thursday, June 25, 2009
June 24 - Bruge
After last nights antics, Jez and I woke up feeling precious at around midday. We were feeling a lot worse than previous mornings. One train of thought was that the Belgian beer had a negative impact on us. Jez was under the impression that we had a night off 2 nights ago, and were therefore out of practice. Whatever reason you want to believe, we were feeling vulnerable.
The hostel we are staying at does have internet access, but it is not working for some reason. When we have asked them about it they say that there is nothing they can do about it, not giving us a reason why. So we headed off to the nearest internet café to get our news and facebook thirsts quenched. We then had a bit of a walk around Bruges. We have noticed that, besides beer and chocolate, Belgians love another delicacy, ice cream. It is absolutely ridiculous. Everywhere you go, there are people eating ice creams and there is an ice cream stand on each corner. Because of this, Jez decided he needed an ice cream and I concurred as this gave me a chance to sink my teeth into a Belgian waffle. It should be said that neither of us were disappointed.
After this, we headed off to the chocolate museum in Bruges. This is more of an informative experience than first anticipated. The museum described, among other things, how the Mayans and Aztecs ‘invented’ chocolate, how the cocoa beans were once used as currency (meaning that their money literally did grow on trees) and English chocolate houses. A lighter side of things was the displays that tried to talk up the benefits of chocolate. This included suggesting that chocolate won’t make you fat (with a balanced lifestyle), lowers cholesterol, could be an aphrodisiac and is just all round awesome.
With the effects of the previous night still present, we headed back to the hostel to get the batteries recharges. This included us having a shower in the world’s worst shower. We are waiting to hear back from the Guinness World Records people for official confirmation. This shower has about 10 thin streams of water that shot out, the temperature cannot be adjusted, and you continually have to hold down a button to get the water out. This last characteristic makes it very hard to clean oneself properly. However I can confidently say that we both achieved this with minimal hassle. The recharge worked, and we both had a spring in our step as we walked to get dinner. This was evidenced when I started whistling (accidently rather loudly) and had about 20 people on the street turn in our direction and give us funny looks.
We took advice from Jez’s budget Europe book and got some cheap pasta. We got to the restaurant and had the choice of a small pasta for 3 Euros or a large pasta for 5 Euros. Jez and I promptly ordered 2 large pastas. Big mistake. What we were delivered was enough pasta to feed a small army for a month, each. We had looked at the people sitting next to us who had ordered the pasta aswell. We had incorrectly assumed that they had ordered the large. Wrong, they had ordered the small pasta (which incidentally could have fed a small army for at least a week).
So off we went. There was a lot of sweating and cursing, but we eventually got there (and received a clap from the people sitting next to us for our efforts). Jez mentioned that was the biggest meal he has eaten whilst being away, which is saying something as he spent 6 months in America. After that, we went and got an ice cream. What can I say, we are gluttons for punishment.
We then headed back to the hostel and spent the rest of the night playing cards in the bar downstairs. The combination of both the alcohol and the food hangover eventually got to us and we rolled ourselves into bed.
Keep fighting the good fight.
Monty
The hostel we are staying at does have internet access, but it is not working for some reason. When we have asked them about it they say that there is nothing they can do about it, not giving us a reason why. So we headed off to the nearest internet café to get our news and facebook thirsts quenched. We then had a bit of a walk around Bruges. We have noticed that, besides beer and chocolate, Belgians love another delicacy, ice cream. It is absolutely ridiculous. Everywhere you go, there are people eating ice creams and there is an ice cream stand on each corner. Because of this, Jez decided he needed an ice cream and I concurred as this gave me a chance to sink my teeth into a Belgian waffle. It should be said that neither of us were disappointed.
After this, we headed off to the chocolate museum in Bruges. This is more of an informative experience than first anticipated. The museum described, among other things, how the Mayans and Aztecs ‘invented’ chocolate, how the cocoa beans were once used as currency (meaning that their money literally did grow on trees) and English chocolate houses. A lighter side of things was the displays that tried to talk up the benefits of chocolate. This included suggesting that chocolate won’t make you fat (with a balanced lifestyle), lowers cholesterol, could be an aphrodisiac and is just all round awesome.
With the effects of the previous night still present, we headed back to the hostel to get the batteries recharges. This included us having a shower in the world’s worst shower. We are waiting to hear back from the Guinness World Records people for official confirmation. This shower has about 10 thin streams of water that shot out, the temperature cannot be adjusted, and you continually have to hold down a button to get the water out. This last characteristic makes it very hard to clean oneself properly. However I can confidently say that we both achieved this with minimal hassle. The recharge worked, and we both had a spring in our step as we walked to get dinner. This was evidenced when I started whistling (accidently rather loudly) and had about 20 people on the street turn in our direction and give us funny looks.
We took advice from Jez’s budget Europe book and got some cheap pasta. We got to the restaurant and had the choice of a small pasta for 3 Euros or a large pasta for 5 Euros. Jez and I promptly ordered 2 large pastas. Big mistake. What we were delivered was enough pasta to feed a small army for a month, each. We had looked at the people sitting next to us who had ordered the pasta aswell. We had incorrectly assumed that they had ordered the large. Wrong, they had ordered the small pasta (which incidentally could have fed a small army for at least a week).
So off we went. There was a lot of sweating and cursing, but we eventually got there (and received a clap from the people sitting next to us for our efforts). Jez mentioned that was the biggest meal he has eaten whilst being away, which is saying something as he spent 6 months in America. After that, we went and got an ice cream. What can I say, we are gluttons for punishment.
We then headed back to the hostel and spent the rest of the night playing cards in the bar downstairs. The combination of both the alcohol and the food hangover eventually got to us and we rolled ourselves into bed.
Keep fighting the good fight.
Monty
June 22 - Amsterdam
After the previous night’s shenanigans, Jex and I woke late to a fine Amsterdam morning. Actually it wasn’t morning as such, but noon. But time be damned, we had one important goal that had to get completed before we did anything else: We had to get our wash on. We headed off to the nearest Laundromat and literally unloaded 90% of our clothes. The enormity of this action must not be underestimated. We were getting desperate with underpants levels running at all time lows. Luckily, no inside-out or back-to-front action was needed in the underpants department.
While the Laundromat took care of all of our washing needs, we headed off and grabbed our staple ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch and played a bit of cards. By the time we got our laundry back it was closer to 2pm and we had yet to do one minute of sightseeing. We therefore went and had a look at the 09 World Press Photo competition. It is the same one that comes to Sydney on a yearly basis, but as it is a Dutch innovation, it spends the majority of the time in Amsterdam. It was interesting, with the winning photo depicting a US Sheriff, gun drawn, entering a house to check to see if its occupants had left as they had bee kicked out due to them being unable pay the mortgage. It was supposed to epitomise the effect of the sub-prime mortgage crisis/GFC. We both considered the World Press Photo 5 Euros well spent.
After this, we decided to head to the house where Anne Frank (a Jew) was hidden during WWII. See kept a diary when she was staying in a secret room trying to avoid detection. We got there, only to find the line massive so we decided to forego Anne. However, the walk there and subsequent walk back to the hostel took us through some really nice canals and streets of Amsterdam.
When we got back to the hostel we agreed that we had done enough damage to our bodies and decided that no more was required, so we had the night off. We grabbed some pasta from the supermarket. After eating that in the hostel, we read our books and went to bed. (Let’s hope this doesn’t become the norm).
From Europa,
Monty
While the Laundromat took care of all of our washing needs, we headed off and grabbed our staple ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch and played a bit of cards. By the time we got our laundry back it was closer to 2pm and we had yet to do one minute of sightseeing. We therefore went and had a look at the 09 World Press Photo competition. It is the same one that comes to Sydney on a yearly basis, but as it is a Dutch innovation, it spends the majority of the time in Amsterdam. It was interesting, with the winning photo depicting a US Sheriff, gun drawn, entering a house to check to see if its occupants had left as they had bee kicked out due to them being unable pay the mortgage. It was supposed to epitomise the effect of the sub-prime mortgage crisis/GFC. We both considered the World Press Photo 5 Euros well spent.
After this, we decided to head to the house where Anne Frank (a Jew) was hidden during WWII. See kept a diary when she was staying in a secret room trying to avoid detection. We got there, only to find the line massive so we decided to forego Anne. However, the walk there and subsequent walk back to the hostel took us through some really nice canals and streets of Amsterdam.
When we got back to the hostel we agreed that we had done enough damage to our bodies and decided that no more was required, so we had the night off. We grabbed some pasta from the supermarket. After eating that in the hostel, we read our books and went to bed. (Let’s hope this doesn’t become the norm).
From Europa,
Monty
June 23 - Amsterdam to Bruges
After a rare quiet night in, Monty and I woke up feeling better than we had in weeks - we had neither gone to bed drunk, nor in an airport for the first time in nearly a fortnight. Such healthy lives we are leading. After a quick hostel breakfast, we packed our bags and made our way to the train station where we promptly boarded the train bound for Antwerp, en route to Bruges. The train trip was again uneventful (we were once again disappointed not get our passports stamped), though Monty enjoyed himself immensely - reading his book. Upon arrival in Bruges we once again did not know where our hostel was, but the helpful lady at the information office pointed us in the right direction and within about 15 minutes of walking we arrived and were glad to find that unlike in Amsterdam we were right in the heart of the town.
After dumping our bags in our room, we headed out for a wander and it was soon apparent why all the travel books list Bruges as a must-see. There is more old architecture than you could poke a stick at, much of which dates from as early as the 12th century. Additionally the town is criss-crossed by both canals and cobblestone streets - giving the whole place a very cool vibe. One bizarre sight that we wandered upon was an old cathedral which houses a few drops of Jesus Christ's coagulated blood. Whilst you couldn't actually see the drops of blood, the Gregorian chanting playing through the speaker system and the groups of very solemn looking pilgirms lent the whole place a pretty intense atmosphere. Moving right along, we went and got ourselves some authentic Belgian chocolate and then headed back to the hostel so that I could plan the night out and Monty could read his book. He found this particularly enjoyable.
After a bit of a wild goose chase to find somewhere to have dinner (almost all of the place recommended by either of our books were closed) we settled on an Italian restaurant where we washed down the relatively cheap fare whilst enjoying a glass or three of delicious Belgian beer. Given it was still relatively early, we headed back to the bar at the hostel where we made the mistake of asking the barman to give us whatever he thought we would like. No doubt hearing our Australian accents, he proceeded to give us a beer marketed as the strongest in Belgium. It tipped the scales at a whopping 12% alcohol content. It was now clear that the barman had our best interests at heart so we continued to follow his advice as he took as through a selection of delicious (and all very potent) Belgian beers. What this may sound like an episode of borderline alcoholism, Monty and I preferred to think of ourselves as enjoying a legitimate cultural experience. Either way, things were escalating quickly.
At the suggestion of some Belgians we had met in the bar we headed to a local nightclub with an American girl from the hostel in tow - the word was that there was an "end of exams party" - which sounded like very much our scene. It soon became apparent however it was very much not our scene. The majority of the people at the club were in fact celebrating the end of their high school exams. This made us all pretty uncomfortable but we decided to make the best of it and try to find some people that we could confirm were our age. However, this was not an easy task and it became blatantly clear that it was time to skedaddle when Monty to get propositioned by a very age-inappropriate girl. Of course he declined - he is such a gentleman.
By this point we were well and truly inebriated so hit the hay with little fuss, content with our first night out in Belgium and hopeful that like their German counterparts, that Belgian beers would be hangover free.
Carn the Wallabies!
Jez
After dumping our bags in our room, we headed out for a wander and it was soon apparent why all the travel books list Bruges as a must-see. There is more old architecture than you could poke a stick at, much of which dates from as early as the 12th century. Additionally the town is criss-crossed by both canals and cobblestone streets - giving the whole place a very cool vibe. One bizarre sight that we wandered upon was an old cathedral which houses a few drops of Jesus Christ's coagulated blood. Whilst you couldn't actually see the drops of blood, the Gregorian chanting playing through the speaker system and the groups of very solemn looking pilgirms lent the whole place a pretty intense atmosphere. Moving right along, we went and got ourselves some authentic Belgian chocolate and then headed back to the hostel so that I could plan the night out and Monty could read his book. He found this particularly enjoyable.
After a bit of a wild goose chase to find somewhere to have dinner (almost all of the place recommended by either of our books were closed) we settled on an Italian restaurant where we washed down the relatively cheap fare whilst enjoying a glass or three of delicious Belgian beer. Given it was still relatively early, we headed back to the bar at the hostel where we made the mistake of asking the barman to give us whatever he thought we would like. No doubt hearing our Australian accents, he proceeded to give us a beer marketed as the strongest in Belgium. It tipped the scales at a whopping 12% alcohol content. It was now clear that the barman had our best interests at heart so we continued to follow his advice as he took as through a selection of delicious (and all very potent) Belgian beers. What this may sound like an episode of borderline alcoholism, Monty and I preferred to think of ourselves as enjoying a legitimate cultural experience. Either way, things were escalating quickly.
At the suggestion of some Belgians we had met in the bar we headed to a local nightclub with an American girl from the hostel in tow - the word was that there was an "end of exams party" - which sounded like very much our scene. It soon became apparent however it was very much not our scene. The majority of the people at the club were in fact celebrating the end of their high school exams. This made us all pretty uncomfortable but we decided to make the best of it and try to find some people that we could confirm were our age. However, this was not an easy task and it became blatantly clear that it was time to skedaddle when Monty to get propositioned by a very age-inappropriate girl. Of course he declined - he is such a gentleman.
By this point we were well and truly inebriated so hit the hay with little fuss, content with our first night out in Belgium and hopeful that like their German counterparts, that Belgian beers would be hangover free.
Carn the Wallabies!
Jez
June 21 - Amsterdam
Monty and I woke feeling a little woozy but not too worse for wear after our first night out in Amsterdam and confident that we had not made any poor life decisions. We wasted little time in heading off to explore the city with our first stop involving a little bit of culture; specifically the Van Gogh museum which houses over 200 of the "master's works" and also information about his life. Whilst this was all very interesting, the differences between pointillism, impressionism and expressionism was somewhat over our heads and we were not able to fully appreciate the specific social commentary suggested by the direction of his brushstrokes, nor the meaning of the juxtaposition of particular colours when viewed through a socio-religious lense. Accordingly we went looking for something that was a bit more our speed and soon we found ourselves on the doorstep of the aptly titled Sex Museum. To be perfectly honest this was a significant disappointment and contrary to offering "the history of attitudes towards sex in various cultural contexts", all that seemed to be on display was a collection of vintage pornography.
We decided to overcome our disappointment by trying out some of the Dutch cuisine (which is notoriously average) and in this case consisted of a large serving of french fries doused in a special Dutch mayonnaisse - the pinnacle of the Dutch culinary experience! This did not fully satisfy us though so we headed to a felafel shop that had been reccommended by one of our guide books. We were not disappointed, though I was a little hot under the collar when the pesto sauce which I had applied liberally to my felafel turned out to in fact be green chili. After overcoming the raging inferno in my mouth with the help of an icecream we headed to the Heineken factory and took the tour. This was quite interesting (probably more so than the Guiness factory) though the highlight was definitely the beer tasting at the end. Not so much for the beer itself, which tasted like any other Heineken, but for the fact that our combined sweet talking of the girls behind the bar meant that instead of having 2 drinks, we had 5 each.
After heading back to the hostel we had a couple of hours to kill. This particularly pleased Monty as it gave him the chance to read more of his book. We eventually headed out and against my better judgement signed on to do an organised pubcrawl around Amsterdam. The reason I say it was against my better judgement is that it had all the hallmarks of being a bigger sausage sizzle than the garden party barbeque. Luckily, it turned out that I was wrong. Whilst I enjoyed myself, Monty had the time of his life and every time I turned my head it seemed that he had found a new podium on which to dance and a new group of people to dance with. Accordingly, whilst I headed home (with a slight detour for food) from the second last pub, Monty did not make it home 'til a little later on, not having wanted to miss the chance to find a new podium to dance on at the last bar.
All told, it was a fairly typical day of Blazin' Europe - getting up just in time for the hostel breakfast, walking around for hours and hours and seeing the sights during the day and continuing the systematic destruction of our brain cells and livers out on the town.
Loving life!
Jez
We decided to overcome our disappointment by trying out some of the Dutch cuisine (which is notoriously average) and in this case consisted of a large serving of french fries doused in a special Dutch mayonnaisse - the pinnacle of the Dutch culinary experience! This did not fully satisfy us though so we headed to a felafel shop that had been reccommended by one of our guide books. We were not disappointed, though I was a little hot under the collar when the pesto sauce which I had applied liberally to my felafel turned out to in fact be green chili. After overcoming the raging inferno in my mouth with the help of an icecream we headed to the Heineken factory and took the tour. This was quite interesting (probably more so than the Guiness factory) though the highlight was definitely the beer tasting at the end. Not so much for the beer itself, which tasted like any other Heineken, but for the fact that our combined sweet talking of the girls behind the bar meant that instead of having 2 drinks, we had 5 each.
After heading back to the hostel we had a couple of hours to kill. This particularly pleased Monty as it gave him the chance to read more of his book. We eventually headed out and against my better judgement signed on to do an organised pubcrawl around Amsterdam. The reason I say it was against my better judgement is that it had all the hallmarks of being a bigger sausage sizzle than the garden party barbeque. Luckily, it turned out that I was wrong. Whilst I enjoyed myself, Monty had the time of his life and every time I turned my head it seemed that he had found a new podium on which to dance and a new group of people to dance with. Accordingly, whilst I headed home (with a slight detour for food) from the second last pub, Monty did not make it home 'til a little later on, not having wanted to miss the chance to find a new podium to dance on at the last bar.
All told, it was a fairly typical day of Blazin' Europe - getting up just in time for the hostel breakfast, walking around for hours and hours and seeing the sights during the day and continuing the systematic destruction of our brain cells and livers out on the town.
Loving life!
Jez
June 20 - Hamburg to Amsterdam
Hamburg to Amsterdam
After another night with less than optimal sleeping hours, I woke up to find that my sleeping habits (a.k.a. snoring) had forced the girl who was on the lower bunk below me to leave our little room and sleep on the floor in another room. Simon Monteath = Smooth Operator. Jez and I rushed downstairs where we had to pay 4 Euros for our breakfast. Luckily, we don’t abide by anyone’s rules and confidently walked into the breakfast room without paying. And thank God we didn’t pay. This breakfast wasn’t better than a lot of the ones that we have had so far…..and the vast majority of them were free. So we gave a big ‘Up yours!’ to the Meininger Hostel and promptly checked out.
As we had not seen much of Hamburg, we decided to have a walk around for a while. These plans were quickly squashed when it started raining. We therefore caught a train the Hamburg’s main station (where we would be catching a train to Amsterdam) and went and had a look at the harbour. The harbour was nice with some cool buildings and a massive jet shooting water dozens of meters in the air. However, we couldn’t fully appreciate the scenery in our state so we headed back to the train station, ready to get our train on.
The train ride was pretty uneventful, with me happily reading my book, and Jez bored as he had no-one to play with; because I was happily ready my book.
We arrived in Amsterdam, again not knowing how to get to our hostel. This is turning into a bit of a tradition (us arriving in a city with absolutely no idea where to go). Long may it continue. We finally figured out where to go and set off to our Hostel, ‘Inner Amsterdam’. Don’t be fooled by the name as it is very deceptive. After a good 3 km walk with our packs, we both agreed that there was nothing Inner about Inner Amsterdam.
After a bit of a lie down we decided to head out to one of Amsterdam’s most famous tourist attraction: the Red Light District. We walked in after having some supermarket bought sandwiches, cake and OJ for dinner.
Unfortunately, the red light district didn’t offer much in terms of nightlife. It is more of a novelty/tourist destination than a place to hit the beers. We spent a lot of the night going to a few different bars and having a look at the ‘novelties’. It really is a weird sight to see grandparents walking around and looking at the women the same way they would look at any other sight.
We decided that since there wasn’t much on offer, we should call it a (relatively) early night and hit the hay, gearing ourselves to get back on the wagon.
Hope all is well,
Monty
After another night with less than optimal sleeping hours, I woke up to find that my sleeping habits (a.k.a. snoring) had forced the girl who was on the lower bunk below me to leave our little room and sleep on the floor in another room. Simon Monteath = Smooth Operator. Jez and I rushed downstairs where we had to pay 4 Euros for our breakfast. Luckily, we don’t abide by anyone’s rules and confidently walked into the breakfast room without paying. And thank God we didn’t pay. This breakfast wasn’t better than a lot of the ones that we have had so far…..and the vast majority of them were free. So we gave a big ‘Up yours!’ to the Meininger Hostel and promptly checked out.
As we had not seen much of Hamburg, we decided to have a walk around for a while. These plans were quickly squashed when it started raining. We therefore caught a train the Hamburg’s main station (where we would be catching a train to Amsterdam) and went and had a look at the harbour. The harbour was nice with some cool buildings and a massive jet shooting water dozens of meters in the air. However, we couldn’t fully appreciate the scenery in our state so we headed back to the train station, ready to get our train on.
The train ride was pretty uneventful, with me happily reading my book, and Jez bored as he had no-one to play with; because I was happily ready my book.
We arrived in Amsterdam, again not knowing how to get to our hostel. This is turning into a bit of a tradition (us arriving in a city with absolutely no idea where to go). Long may it continue. We finally figured out where to go and set off to our Hostel, ‘Inner Amsterdam’. Don’t be fooled by the name as it is very deceptive. After a good 3 km walk with our packs, we both agreed that there was nothing Inner about Inner Amsterdam.
After a bit of a lie down we decided to head out to one of Amsterdam’s most famous tourist attraction: the Red Light District. We walked in after having some supermarket bought sandwiches, cake and OJ for dinner.
Unfortunately, the red light district didn’t offer much in terms of nightlife. It is more of a novelty/tourist destination than a place to hit the beers. We spent a lot of the night going to a few different bars and having a look at the ‘novelties’. It really is a weird sight to see grandparents walking around and looking at the women the same way they would look at any other sight.
We decided that since there wasn’t much on offer, we should call it a (relatively) early night and hit the hay, gearing ourselves to get back on the wagon.
Hope all is well,
Monty
June 19 - Berlin to Hamburg
Monty and I once again awoke relatively late and, given that we were not catching the train to Hamburg until after 7 pm (for the sake of our Eurrail passes) we had a very very leisurely start to the day. This particularly suited Monty as it gave him the chance to read more of his book. By the time the afternoon rolled around we decided that it was time to do something so we headed off the the Jewish Museum, which was about half an hour away from the hostel on foot. Our poor hungover bodies could scarcely handle reading about the history of Jewish culture and food so our stay was relatively brief, though we were both impressed by the building itself and its bizarre features which included a staircase that quite deliberately led into a brick wall and the "memory void" which was a big empty space with a bunch of metal faces on the ground. Very strange indeed. However this did not fully satisfy Monty and as we left he stated that he wanted 3 Euro back: the 2.50 he had paid and an extra 50 cents for wasting his time.
By this stage it was mid-afternoon so we headed back to Kreuzburg where we met up with Max and went and had an excellent Turkish late lunch (thankfully it was not a kebab). After a final quiet beer at the hostel we headed to the train station where we had about an hour to wait before the train arrived. This particularly suited Monty as it gave him the chance to read more of his book. The train journey itself was completely uneventful, though Monty missed seeing any of the scenic German countryside that was rushing by as he was reading his book literally the entire way. This particularly suited him.
Upon arriving in Hamburg we checked into our hostel and given we were both pretty tired after the excesses of Berlin had planned on a quiet night. But we had heard that Hamburg was a good fun town so we went for a bit of wander to see what the area we were in had to offer. The answer was "not much" and by just before midnight we were back at the hostel. Common sense was threatening to prevail. It was at this point that we were intercepted by Marcus from Sweden and two French-Canadian girls, Renae and Katerie who were heading the infamous Red Light District, Reeperbahn, and asked whether we wanted to go with them. It barely needs to be said that common sense did not prevail and soon we were on the train headed for Reeperbahn. It quickly became apparent that whilst the girls spoke very good (though heavily accented) English and were pretty typical travellers, there was nothing at all typical about Marcus, nor his accent. He soon had Monty and me in stitches with his very Swedish, very camp accent, his complete inability to read maps and the fact that he seemed to have deemed himself our unofficial tourguide As soon as we got off the train at the Reeperbahn and saw the standard of the clientele, we realised that we had made an excellent decision - the Hamburger women are stunning! This was summed up quite eloquently by Marcus who informed Monty and myself that if he weren't gay he would be "drowning" in women. The bars were pretty good too and after spending a couple of hours (and very little money) in a bar selling drinks for 99 cents we hit the town with a couple of locals we had met along the way. Suffice to say that a good night was had by all and as we headed home in the company of a slowly rising sun it was plainly evident that our supposed quiet night had been anything but.
Hope you're all well,
Jez
By this stage it was mid-afternoon so we headed back to Kreuzburg where we met up with Max and went and had an excellent Turkish late lunch (thankfully it was not a kebab). After a final quiet beer at the hostel we headed to the train station where we had about an hour to wait before the train arrived. This particularly suited Monty as it gave him the chance to read more of his book. The train journey itself was completely uneventful, though Monty missed seeing any of the scenic German countryside that was rushing by as he was reading his book literally the entire way. This particularly suited him.
Upon arriving in Hamburg we checked into our hostel and given we were both pretty tired after the excesses of Berlin had planned on a quiet night. But we had heard that Hamburg was a good fun town so we went for a bit of wander to see what the area we were in had to offer. The answer was "not much" and by just before midnight we were back at the hostel. Common sense was threatening to prevail. It was at this point that we were intercepted by Marcus from Sweden and two French-Canadian girls, Renae and Katerie who were heading the infamous Red Light District, Reeperbahn, and asked whether we wanted to go with them. It barely needs to be said that common sense did not prevail and soon we were on the train headed for Reeperbahn. It quickly became apparent that whilst the girls spoke very good (though heavily accented) English and were pretty typical travellers, there was nothing at all typical about Marcus, nor his accent. He soon had Monty and me in stitches with his very Swedish, very camp accent, his complete inability to read maps and the fact that he seemed to have deemed himself our unofficial tourguide As soon as we got off the train at the Reeperbahn and saw the standard of the clientele, we realised that we had made an excellent decision - the Hamburger women are stunning! This was summed up quite eloquently by Marcus who informed Monty and myself that if he weren't gay he would be "drowning" in women. The bars were pretty good too and after spending a couple of hours (and very little money) in a bar selling drinks for 99 cents we hit the town with a couple of locals we had met along the way. Suffice to say that a good night was had by all and as we headed home in the company of a slowly rising sun it was plainly evident that our supposed quiet night had been anything but.
Hope you're all well,
Jez
June 18 - Berlin
After the previous night’s shenanigans, Jez and I both woke up promptly at midday, feeling that we had put the morning to good use. We bummed around for an hour and then decided to go check out the Reichstag, Germany’s Parliament House which we hadn’t seen previously as the queue was too long.
We caught the train to Berlin’s main station and had a wander around. The first thing we noticed after hopping out of the station was that everyone seemed to have grown a good few feet during our 15 minute train ride. We also noticed that there was sand everywhere, something we thought peculiar has Berlin is a good couple of hundred kilometers from the nearest coastline. Then we heard the roar of the crowd. Could it be? Yes it was! The European beach volleyball championships were on! This was an opportunity that was too random to miss. We had to check out how so little clothing could be worn and not slip down.
Jez and I sat down at the first court we saw and clapped after every point. Unfortunately, we were the only ones. However, this didn’t dampen our spirits as they were buoyed by the passion and intensity of the European volleyballers. They seriously take this stuff seriously……seriously.
After a few scintillating points, we figured out that we were just on Court 2, with Court 1 having a bigger demountable stadium! We were off. After watching a few more excellent points of the beach v-ball, it was half time. The half time entertainment didn’t disappoint, about 10 scantly dressed ladies entered the playing surface and performed some of the more innovative and just down right weird dance moves; causing us to have a good laugh. As Jez said – after the display they had put on you would not have told them to quit their day jobs, though it appeared much more likely that the girls in question actually had night jobs (quite possibly giving another type of job).
After this we were volleyed out, so we headed over to the Reichstag only to find the queue was (again) massive. We therefore decided to check out the Brandenburg Gate and stroll down Unter Der Linden (the touristy street that the Brandenburg Gate is on). As we walked under the Brandenburg gate, Jez noticed a ‘Room of Silence’ on the left. Curious, we went and checked it out. The room was exactly what it said, a room where people can go a just be quiet. Jez and I took up the challenge and were quiet for a good 4 and a half minutes before getting bored and leaving. It was dead set one of the most random tourist things we have seen so far. And it was right next to Germany’s arguably most popular tourist attraction. Those crazy Germans.
We then walked down Unter Der Linden and back up to the Reichstag. The line was still long but we decided to suck it up and wait it out. While we were waiting we read some of the Reichstag pamphlets, the Germans are really into this Parliament stuff. We finally got to the head of the line and went through a security check that would put most US airports to shame, with everything being scanned and questioned. There is a spire at the top of the Reichstag which gives a decent view of the city. We went up there, found it to be not as awesome as anticipated and left. When we headed out the doors of the Reichstag we had to go through two separate bulletproof doors that wouldn’t open at the same time. Apparently, this is so a sniper cannot shoot someone in the Parliament. Crazy.
We got back to the hostel and cooked up a feast in the kitchen. After this we settled down with some beers and chatted to people in the hostel. There was a girl who knew Ash Cowan (a mate of ours from Drews).
At about 2am we decided it was time to turn it up a notch and we headed out to this club that was on the water which was quite cool. Things get a bit hazy at this point, but we basically had a good time, got home when it was light in the sky and went to bed (but not before getting a kebab).
Hope you’re all well,
Monty
We caught the train to Berlin’s main station and had a wander around. The first thing we noticed after hopping out of the station was that everyone seemed to have grown a good few feet during our 15 minute train ride. We also noticed that there was sand everywhere, something we thought peculiar has Berlin is a good couple of hundred kilometers from the nearest coastline. Then we heard the roar of the crowd. Could it be? Yes it was! The European beach volleyball championships were on! This was an opportunity that was too random to miss. We had to check out how so little clothing could be worn and not slip down.
Jez and I sat down at the first court we saw and clapped after every point. Unfortunately, we were the only ones. However, this didn’t dampen our spirits as they were buoyed by the passion and intensity of the European volleyballers. They seriously take this stuff seriously……seriously.
After a few scintillating points, we figured out that we were just on Court 2, with Court 1 having a bigger demountable stadium! We were off. After watching a few more excellent points of the beach v-ball, it was half time. The half time entertainment didn’t disappoint, about 10 scantly dressed ladies entered the playing surface and performed some of the more innovative and just down right weird dance moves; causing us to have a good laugh. As Jez said – after the display they had put on you would not have told them to quit their day jobs, though it appeared much more likely that the girls in question actually had night jobs (quite possibly giving another type of job).
After this we were volleyed out, so we headed over to the Reichstag only to find the queue was (again) massive. We therefore decided to check out the Brandenburg Gate and stroll down Unter Der Linden (the touristy street that the Brandenburg Gate is on). As we walked under the Brandenburg gate, Jez noticed a ‘Room of Silence’ on the left. Curious, we went and checked it out. The room was exactly what it said, a room where people can go a just be quiet. Jez and I took up the challenge and were quiet for a good 4 and a half minutes before getting bored and leaving. It was dead set one of the most random tourist things we have seen so far. And it was right next to Germany’s arguably most popular tourist attraction. Those crazy Germans.
We then walked down Unter Der Linden and back up to the Reichstag. The line was still long but we decided to suck it up and wait it out. While we were waiting we read some of the Reichstag pamphlets, the Germans are really into this Parliament stuff. We finally got to the head of the line and went through a security check that would put most US airports to shame, with everything being scanned and questioned. There is a spire at the top of the Reichstag which gives a decent view of the city. We went up there, found it to be not as awesome as anticipated and left. When we headed out the doors of the Reichstag we had to go through two separate bulletproof doors that wouldn’t open at the same time. Apparently, this is so a sniper cannot shoot someone in the Parliament. Crazy.
We got back to the hostel and cooked up a feast in the kitchen. After this we settled down with some beers and chatted to people in the hostel. There was a girl who knew Ash Cowan (a mate of ours from Drews).
At about 2am we decided it was time to turn it up a notch and we headed out to this club that was on the water which was quite cool. Things get a bit hazy at this point, but we basically had a good time, got home when it was light in the sky and went to bed (but not before getting a kebab).
Hope you’re all well,
Monty
Berlin Day 2
After having spent the previous 2 nights at the Dublin Airport and having had a big night out, Monty and I decided that a sleep in was in order. Accordingly, we eventually got out of bed at about 1 pm. This may sound ridiculous, but given there were still 6 other people in our dorm who were still in bed, we did not feel too bad about it. After having seen the majority of Berlin's tourist attractions the night before, Monty and I grabbed some muesli bars for breakdast / lunch and headed off to Checkpoint Charlie. Real Talk: Checkpoint Charlie was the main checkpoint between the American sector of West Berlin and East Berlin during the Cold War years when the city was divided and as a result has become something of a symbol of the years of division. After the obligatory photos, we went inside to check out the museum which focused primarily on the various methods people used to smuggle themselves out of East Berlin including hang-gliders, hot air balloons, submarines and all sorts of tunnels.
This was all very interesting but we were both pretty tired so we headed back to the hostel to rest up (and so Monty could read his book). After sleeping on the couch for a while and grabbing more delicious kebabs for dinner we took advantage of the cheap beers on offer and chatted to other people from the hostel in preparation for a night out on the town. By about midnight we were ready to go (but not nearly as ready as a group of Belgian guys at the hostel whose drunken antics made Monty and myself look positively saintly). The plan of attack for the night was to head to a nightclub called Watergate where a famous trance DJ was playing and we grabbed some road beers (for the princely sum of 70 cents each for the walk. Upon arrival, it was clear that half of Berlin had the same thought process as us and the line was at least 150 strong. Bear in mind that this was all taking place at 12:30 on a thursday morning. The next thing I knew my phone was ringing. It was Monty, and I looked up to see him on the other side of the barricades, right at the front of the queue. He is a sneaky sneaky man and had managed to completely skip the line and evade the bouncers. Despite this feat of daring-do, which Max, myself and Patrick (an Irish bloke from the hostel) emulated, we couldn't get in due to our conspicuous lack of female company and headed off to find something else to do.
Following the sound of loud music down the road, we walked into what appeared to be a pretty cool bar with a good crowd of people about our age. The next logical step was to ask where the bar was so we could get a drink. There was no bar. There was no alochol being sold. We had drunkenly stumbled into someone's house and had inadvertantly crashed a birthday party. Suitably embarassed / amused we headed off to get more road beers and more delicious kebabs. At this point, Monty and myself had consumed 7 kebabs between us in the previous 48 hours.
We briefly tried to get into the club but soon headed off on the walk back to the hostel, which was notable only for Monty's continual demands that we take a cab. Despite our failure to get into any actual drinking establishments, a good night was had by all - a fact I chose to celebrate by promptly falling asleep on one of the hostel couches.
Gotta love Berlin!
Jez
This was all very interesting but we were both pretty tired so we headed back to the hostel to rest up (and so Monty could read his book). After sleeping on the couch for a while and grabbing more delicious kebabs for dinner we took advantage of the cheap beers on offer and chatted to other people from the hostel in preparation for a night out on the town. By about midnight we were ready to go (but not nearly as ready as a group of Belgian guys at the hostel whose drunken antics made Monty and myself look positively saintly). The plan of attack for the night was to head to a nightclub called Watergate where a famous trance DJ was playing and we grabbed some road beers (for the princely sum of 70 cents each for the walk. Upon arrival, it was clear that half of Berlin had the same thought process as us and the line was at least 150 strong. Bear in mind that this was all taking place at 12:30 on a thursday morning. The next thing I knew my phone was ringing. It was Monty, and I looked up to see him on the other side of the barricades, right at the front of the queue. He is a sneaky sneaky man and had managed to completely skip the line and evade the bouncers. Despite this feat of daring-do, which Max, myself and Patrick (an Irish bloke from the hostel) emulated, we couldn't get in due to our conspicuous lack of female company and headed off to find something else to do.
Following the sound of loud music down the road, we walked into what appeared to be a pretty cool bar with a good crowd of people about our age. The next logical step was to ask where the bar was so we could get a drink. There was no bar. There was no alochol being sold. We had drunkenly stumbled into someone's house and had inadvertantly crashed a birthday party. Suitably embarassed / amused we headed off to get more road beers and more delicious kebabs. At this point, Monty and myself had consumed 7 kebabs between us in the previous 48 hours.
We briefly tried to get into the club but soon headed off on the walk back to the hostel, which was notable only for Monty's continual demands that we take a cab. Despite our failure to get into any actual drinking establishments, a good night was had by all - a fact I chose to celebrate by promptly falling asleep on one of the hostel couches.
Gotta love Berlin!
Jez
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Day 15 - June 16 - Dublin to Berlin
Jez and I woke up thinking we were definitely in our own European version of Groundhog Day. The only annoyance (besides sleeping on an airport lounge and getting periodic updates reminding passengers not to leave their bags unattended) was that we were woken up at 1:30 by the cops. Apparently we looked dodgy and they needed to check our papers. This was fine, except for the fact we had locked them away in our bags, and it takes considerable time and effort to undo the locks when you are only half awake with a cop staring down at you.
Despite the interrupted sleep, we were full of beans ready to get to continental Europe. We checked in and hopped on the plane. We are not quite sure how the 2 hour flight from Dublin to Berlin as we both caught up on some much needed rest.
We landed in Berlin and it immediately became apparent that the language difference will throw up a few problems. After eventually purchasing our tickets we hoped onto the train into the city. We didnt know it at the time, but we should have got our tickets validated. We didnt, but didnt get caught, so now we have another day pass which we can use in Berlin whenever we want - Result!
We dumped our stuff at the Comebackpackers Hostel and got a kebab for lunch at (according to Lonely Planet) was the inventor of the Lebanese kebab that us Aussies know and love. We then met up with Max, one of Jez's mates from uni. Max was then assigned as our own personal tour guide. We hired some bikes from a place from around the corner (cycling is how everyone gets round in Berlin, there are cycle lanes everywhere).
Max turned out to be an awesome tour guide. We saw the German Parliament house (Reichstag), the holocaust memorial, Alex tower, parts of the Berlin wall that is still standing, and Museum island.
As we were riding back to Max's place, he suggested that alcohol laws are lax and that we should get beers for the ride home. We dutifully pulled over at the next corner store and grabbed some beers (we are such locals).
That night we headed out to Friedrichsheim, which is an area near our hostel which has heaps of cafes/restaurants and bars. We got a feed and then hit a few of the bars. What was immediately noticed was that food and drink in Berlin is a shitload cheaper than in Dublin. The nightlife around Friedrichsheim on the main street wasnt as expected, so we decided to walk home. We were walking back and passed a sign that said there was a night club in some random backstreet. We decided to check it out. We got in to discover that it was so stereotypical Berlin. It was an (illegal) underground night club, which required you to be frisked when you entered. It was also really dark and played trance music all night long. Max, Jez and I promptly got our groove on and had a great time. One of the main reasons for this is that the club was just so German.
In the early hours of the morning we got sore feet and headed back to the hostel.
Cheers,
Monty
Despite the interrupted sleep, we were full of beans ready to get to continental Europe. We checked in and hopped on the plane. We are not quite sure how the 2 hour flight from Dublin to Berlin as we both caught up on some much needed rest.
We landed in Berlin and it immediately became apparent that the language difference will throw up a few problems. After eventually purchasing our tickets we hoped onto the train into the city. We didnt know it at the time, but we should have got our tickets validated. We didnt, but didnt get caught, so now we have another day pass which we can use in Berlin whenever we want - Result!
We dumped our stuff at the Comebackpackers Hostel and got a kebab for lunch at (according to Lonely Planet) was the inventor of the Lebanese kebab that us Aussies know and love. We then met up with Max, one of Jez's mates from uni. Max was then assigned as our own personal tour guide. We hired some bikes from a place from around the corner (cycling is how everyone gets round in Berlin, there are cycle lanes everywhere).
Max turned out to be an awesome tour guide. We saw the German Parliament house (Reichstag), the holocaust memorial, Alex tower, parts of the Berlin wall that is still standing, and Museum island.
As we were riding back to Max's place, he suggested that alcohol laws are lax and that we should get beers for the ride home. We dutifully pulled over at the next corner store and grabbed some beers (we are such locals).
That night we headed out to Friedrichsheim, which is an area near our hostel which has heaps of cafes/restaurants and bars. We got a feed and then hit a few of the bars. What was immediately noticed was that food and drink in Berlin is a shitload cheaper than in Dublin. The nightlife around Friedrichsheim on the main street wasnt as expected, so we decided to walk home. We were walking back and passed a sign that said there was a night club in some random backstreet. We decided to check it out. We got in to discover that it was so stereotypical Berlin. It was an (illegal) underground night club, which required you to be frisked when you entered. It was also really dark and played trance music all night long. Max, Jez and I promptly got our groove on and had a great time. One of the main reasons for this is that the club was just so German.
In the early hours of the morning we got sore feet and headed back to the hostel.
Cheers,
Monty
Sunday 14 June & Monday 15 June - Dublin to ... Dublin
Waking up feeling slightly worse for wear after the night out in Temple Bar, Monty and I once again loaded up on the free hostel breakfast before checking out of our room, dumping our bags in the luggage room and heading off for the day. As our flight for Berlin departed at 6 am the following morning we decided that we would spend the day sight-seeing and then head out to the airport to spend the night. The top of our list of things to do was the Kilmarnheim Gaol which is on the outskirts of Dublin. We had been told by some people at the hostel that it was an interesting tour that gave an insight into Ireland's political history. It lived up to its billing, and after the 45 minute walk to get there, and the tour which ran for approximately an hour, we considered it 2 Euro well spent. By the time we got back into the heart of Dublin, it was mid-afternoon so we wasted little time in heading to the pub and ordering ourselves some authentic Irish beef and guiness pie. The meal itself was sensational, but it was made all the better by the constant attention of the barman who was falling over himself to accommodate us. He turned the TV on to the Gaelic football so we could watch it, brought us the day's papers to read, continually filled up our waters and offered us additional sides. Monty was very impressed.
The next tasks we had in front of us were to find some shampoo for Monty (as he had decided to coat the interior of his bag with the old one), find a bookshop (as we had both finished the books we had brought with us) and get a new simcard for my phone that would work on the continent. This was largely uneventful and by the time 6 pm rolled around we realised that we still had 12 hours ahead of us until our plane was to take off and nothing at all left to do. So we decided to go to the movies to see The Hangover and we were certainly not disappointed - seriously, do yourself a favour and go and watch it. This killed a couple of hours and at 9 we headed off to the airport, a prospect that mildly excited Monty as he was itching to get some use out of his sleeping bag. He seemed to get much more sleep than I did but soon enough 4 am rolled around and we headed down to the check-in desk, excitedly trading limited phrases in German and confident that our bags would fit under the 15 kg limit. Our excitement to be heading to the continent was brought to a screeching halt when we arrived at the check-in desk and were promptly told that I had messed up the dates on the booking and that we were in fact booked on the flight the following morning. This was completely my fault which made me very very angry and little that came out of my mouth in the following hour is fit for print, though the phrase "Gosh, I hate that Bob Barker!" was in high rotation. We soon realised however that this was a minor setback and that the clouds certainly had a silver lining. We had an extra day in the Emerald Isle and were definitely going to make the most of it. Given that we had seen all that Dublin had to offer but had not yet ventured into rural Ireland at all we headed to the Dublin Tourism Office where we boarded a bus for a day trip to Wicklow, which would basically involve cruising around the Irish countryside for the day.
On the whole it was a very enjoyable day, with all the spectacularly green scenery that you would expect from the Emerald Isles and an absolute character for a tour guide. The first thing that struck you about John (our guide) was that he was a dead ringer for Monty's dad - Mr Robert Monteath. It also soon became apparent that he knew everything there was to know about everywhere we went and that he absolutely loved the sound of his own voice. This was kind of entertaining at first, but when he started doling out random pieces of life advice to the members of the tour who hadn't yet fallen asleep, it started to get a bit much. This was exascerbated by the fact that he had an absolutely incredible array of "dad jokes". It was like he had been given the book "dad jokes for dummies" for Christmas and committed it to memory. All of this just confirmed that he was in fact Monty's long lost uncle.
There were a number of highlights of the day - seeing the stream from which the water for Guinness is taken, wandering through the ruins of a Catholic Monastry that was originally built in the 112h century and the song routines that occurred on the bus in the mid-afternoon. John decided that he would teach us all some Irish folk tunes so he started singing one over the bus' speaker system. At the same time he began to slap his thigh in rhythm with the music to try to encourage some participation from the touring party. Monty did not need to be asked twice and decided to test his Irish uncle out by clapping along louder and louder and faster and faster. The result was that by the end of the song, John (who had taken on the challenge with relish) was rapping faster than 50 cent and Monty was thoroughly convinced that he had found a blood relative.
Arriving back in Dublin at about 6 pm, it was like de ja vu all over again (I have always wanted to say that for the sheer stupidity of it), so we decided to go and see The Hangover again (seriously it is almost as funny as Anchorman) before heading back out the airport to once again bunk down for the night.
Hopefully the next posting will be from the Continent!
Over and out
Jez
The next tasks we had in front of us were to find some shampoo for Monty (as he had decided to coat the interior of his bag with the old one), find a bookshop (as we had both finished the books we had brought with us) and get a new simcard for my phone that would work on the continent. This was largely uneventful and by the time 6 pm rolled around we realised that we still had 12 hours ahead of us until our plane was to take off and nothing at all left to do. So we decided to go to the movies to see The Hangover and we were certainly not disappointed - seriously, do yourself a favour and go and watch it. This killed a couple of hours and at 9 we headed off to the airport, a prospect that mildly excited Monty as he was itching to get some use out of his sleeping bag. He seemed to get much more sleep than I did but soon enough 4 am rolled around and we headed down to the check-in desk, excitedly trading limited phrases in German and confident that our bags would fit under the 15 kg limit. Our excitement to be heading to the continent was brought to a screeching halt when we arrived at the check-in desk and were promptly told that I had messed up the dates on the booking and that we were in fact booked on the flight the following morning. This was completely my fault which made me very very angry and little that came out of my mouth in the following hour is fit for print, though the phrase "Gosh, I hate that Bob Barker!" was in high rotation. We soon realised however that this was a minor setback and that the clouds certainly had a silver lining. We had an extra day in the Emerald Isle and were definitely going to make the most of it. Given that we had seen all that Dublin had to offer but had not yet ventured into rural Ireland at all we headed to the Dublin Tourism Office where we boarded a bus for a day trip to Wicklow, which would basically involve cruising around the Irish countryside for the day.
On the whole it was a very enjoyable day, with all the spectacularly green scenery that you would expect from the Emerald Isles and an absolute character for a tour guide. The first thing that struck you about John (our guide) was that he was a dead ringer for Monty's dad - Mr Robert Monteath. It also soon became apparent that he knew everything there was to know about everywhere we went and that he absolutely loved the sound of his own voice. This was kind of entertaining at first, but when he started doling out random pieces of life advice to the members of the tour who hadn't yet fallen asleep, it started to get a bit much. This was exascerbated by the fact that he had an absolutely incredible array of "dad jokes". It was like he had been given the book "dad jokes for dummies" for Christmas and committed it to memory. All of this just confirmed that he was in fact Monty's long lost uncle.
There were a number of highlights of the day - seeing the stream from which the water for Guinness is taken, wandering through the ruins of a Catholic Monastry that was originally built in the 112h century and the song routines that occurred on the bus in the mid-afternoon. John decided that he would teach us all some Irish folk tunes so he started singing one over the bus' speaker system. At the same time he began to slap his thigh in rhythm with the music to try to encourage some participation from the touring party. Monty did not need to be asked twice and decided to test his Irish uncle out by clapping along louder and louder and faster and faster. The result was that by the end of the song, John (who had taken on the challenge with relish) was rapping faster than 50 cent and Monty was thoroughly convinced that he had found a blood relative.
Arriving back in Dublin at about 6 pm, it was like de ja vu all over again (I have always wanted to say that for the sheer stupidity of it), so we decided to go and see The Hangover again (seriously it is almost as funny as Anchorman) before heading back out the airport to once again bunk down for the night.
Hopefully the next posting will be from the Continent!
Over and out
Jez
Day 12 - June 13 - Dublin
Jez and I woke up at the now near-ritualised time that is just before the hostel breakfast is finished and grab a bite to eat. We then checked out of the hostel. We didnt really know what we wanted to do, so we researched a few of our options. These included heading to another part of Ireland (Cork or Limerick), catching a Gaelic Footbal match or Hurling match, or just hanging around Dublin again.
We spent a bit of time on the net where it became apparent that the Ireland travel gods were against us, with it taking ages to get to Cork or Limerick and no Gaelic Football or Hurling matches available for us to go to. We therefore decided to check out a bit more of Dublin that we hadnt seen. This included heading off to Croke Park (an 80,000 seat stadium where Gaelic Football matches are played. Its also where the Irish Bloody Sunday occurred).
We walked out of the Hostel and ran into one of the Canadian guys who was also staying in the hostel with us. He basically invited himself along, and off we went.
The walk took us a good 45 mins to get to Croke Park. This was pretty cool as it took us through the less touristy parts of Dublin. There was a hive of activity as well, due to the fact that Take That were performing that night. After walking around what seemed like the majority of the stadium, we asked some of the security guards how to get to the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA) museum. They told us that because the concert is on tonight, the museum was shut. However, it should be noted that the Irish are some of the most helpful/talkative in the world. They spent the next 5 mins rattling off other places in Ireland we should visit. Dejected, we continued on our way. By this stage, we were at least 3/4s of the way around the stadium. Again we stopped and asked for directions, this time how to get back to the city centre. Again, the Irish showed us how talkive/helpful they are, having a 7 minute in depth discussion between 5 of them, on the best way for us to found our way back. They told us to go back the way we had come as we couldnt walk all the way around Croke Park.
We got back to the hostel, cooked a great meal and promptly got on the beers. That night, we headed out to Temple Bar with the American chicks we met the night before. Dispite the name, Temple Bar is actually an area sprawling with pubs and revellers on a Saturday night. It was realy cool, with Jez describing the streets as similar to that in New Orleans. We hit a few bars and then called it a night to get a bit of shut eye.
Kind Regards,
Monty
We spent a bit of time on the net where it became apparent that the Ireland travel gods were against us, with it taking ages to get to Cork or Limerick and no Gaelic Football or Hurling matches available for us to go to. We therefore decided to check out a bit more of Dublin that we hadnt seen. This included heading off to Croke Park (an 80,000 seat stadium where Gaelic Football matches are played. Its also where the Irish Bloody Sunday occurred).
We walked out of the Hostel and ran into one of the Canadian guys who was also staying in the hostel with us. He basically invited himself along, and off we went.
The walk took us a good 45 mins to get to Croke Park. This was pretty cool as it took us through the less touristy parts of Dublin. There was a hive of activity as well, due to the fact that Take That were performing that night. After walking around what seemed like the majority of the stadium, we asked some of the security guards how to get to the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA) museum. They told us that because the concert is on tonight, the museum was shut. However, it should be noted that the Irish are some of the most helpful/talkative in the world. They spent the next 5 mins rattling off other places in Ireland we should visit. Dejected, we continued on our way. By this stage, we were at least 3/4s of the way around the stadium. Again we stopped and asked for directions, this time how to get back to the city centre. Again, the Irish showed us how talkive/helpful they are, having a 7 minute in depth discussion between 5 of them, on the best way for us to found our way back. They told us to go back the way we had come as we couldnt walk all the way around Croke Park.
We got back to the hostel, cooked a great meal and promptly got on the beers. That night, we headed out to Temple Bar with the American chicks we met the night before. Dispite the name, Temple Bar is actually an area sprawling with pubs and revellers on a Saturday night. It was realy cool, with Jez describing the streets as similar to that in New Orleans. We hit a few bars and then called it a night to get a bit of shut eye.
Kind Regards,
Monty
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Day 11 - June 12 - Edinburgh to Dublin
The day began uncomfortably early, with my alarm waking Monty and myself up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 so that we could get out to the airport for our 8 am flight. Thankfully, it was already broad daylight so the walk to catch the airport bus was not too depressing.
The first real adventure of the day came at the Ryanair baggage check-in desk. Due to the no-frills nature of the airline, there is a strict limit on the weight of baggage - 15 kgs, above which the fees are astronomical. Upon arriving, I weighed my backpack and was somewhat worried to see it tip the scales at 17.1. It was looming as an expensive flight. However, with some careful repacking (working out what was heaviest and jamming it into my handluggage) and carrying 2 jumpers, a jacket and a book (coz who knows it might be really really cold when we land), I put my bag on the scales and registered an impressive 14.9 kilos. Atkin: 1, Ryanair baggage limit: 0. Monty achieved similar success and we headed off to security with a definite spring in our step.
After a mediocre airport breakfast, upon which we attempted to spend as much as possible of our UK shrapnel (thus the 7 am block of chocolate), we boarded the flight. The landing wasn't as smooth as it could have been; and, after touching down we heard trumpets celebrating over the speakers. Was it because we didn't crash? No, apparently, we had landed on time and Ryanair decided to celebrate. We were greeted in Dublin by very Irish weather: cold, windy, raining and miserable. After going through the standard arrival process (which is all much cooler in Irish accents), we jumped on a bus and headed to our hostel. Given it was only 11 am, we were unable to check-in so we dumped our bags and headed off on a pilgrimage to one of the most holy sights of alcoholism: the Guinness Brewery. The highlight of this was pouring our own pints (which taste infinitely better than they do in Australia) and then being offered extras by a group of American girls who had done the tour, but were not too keen on the beer itself. We then headed off for an Irish pub meal before going to have a look at St Patrick's Cathedral and wandering around Trinity University before heading back to check-in to the hostel.
After sitting and having dinner and (multiple) beers with an Aussie and a Canadian at the hostel (everything in Dublin is outrageously expensive), Monty took it upon himself to go and find some other people at the hostel to join the festivities. The next thing we knew, Monty walked back into the room with no less than 8 American college girls and the world's biggest grin on his face. The man has game. From this point, the night escalated quickly and though we were not allowed to drink in the hostel after 11 pm, we went and sat on the boardwalk by the river and got (in the words the guy at the hostel) well and truly "scottered". From here we went to a number of bars all of which blurred into one, though I do definitely recall multiple dancefloors, pints of Guinness, the Stanley Cup Final and a late night trip for food. All in all Dublin certainly lived up to its status as the capital of the drunkest nation on earth and a good night was had by all.
Hope all is well back home.
Jez
The first real adventure of the day came at the Ryanair baggage check-in desk. Due to the no-frills nature of the airline, there is a strict limit on the weight of baggage - 15 kgs, above which the fees are astronomical. Upon arriving, I weighed my backpack and was somewhat worried to see it tip the scales at 17.1. It was looming as an expensive flight. However, with some careful repacking (working out what was heaviest and jamming it into my handluggage) and carrying 2 jumpers, a jacket and a book (coz who knows it might be really really cold when we land), I put my bag on the scales and registered an impressive 14.9 kilos. Atkin: 1, Ryanair baggage limit: 0. Monty achieved similar success and we headed off to security with a definite spring in our step.
After a mediocre airport breakfast, upon which we attempted to spend as much as possible of our UK shrapnel (thus the 7 am block of chocolate), we boarded the flight. The landing wasn't as smooth as it could have been; and, after touching down we heard trumpets celebrating over the speakers. Was it because we didn't crash? No, apparently, we had landed on time and Ryanair decided to celebrate. We were greeted in Dublin by very Irish weather: cold, windy, raining and miserable. After going through the standard arrival process (which is all much cooler in Irish accents), we jumped on a bus and headed to our hostel. Given it was only 11 am, we were unable to check-in so we dumped our bags and headed off on a pilgrimage to one of the most holy sights of alcoholism: the Guinness Brewery. The highlight of this was pouring our own pints (which taste infinitely better than they do in Australia) and then being offered extras by a group of American girls who had done the tour, but were not too keen on the beer itself. We then headed off for an Irish pub meal before going to have a look at St Patrick's Cathedral and wandering around Trinity University before heading back to check-in to the hostel.
After sitting and having dinner and (multiple) beers with an Aussie and a Canadian at the hostel (everything in Dublin is outrageously expensive), Monty took it upon himself to go and find some other people at the hostel to join the festivities. The next thing we knew, Monty walked back into the room with no less than 8 American college girls and the world's biggest grin on his face. The man has game. From this point, the night escalated quickly and though we were not allowed to drink in the hostel after 11 pm, we went and sat on the boardwalk by the river and got (in the words the guy at the hostel) well and truly "scottered". From here we went to a number of bars all of which blurred into one, though I do definitely recall multiple dancefloors, pints of Guinness, the Stanley Cup Final and a late night trip for food. All in all Dublin certainly lived up to its status as the capital of the drunkest nation on earth and a good night was had by all.
Hope all is well back home.
Jez
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Day 10 - June 11 - Glasgow to Edinburgh
Due to our lack of partying the night before, Jez and I woke up well rested after probably our best sleep in Europe so far. We packed up our stuff and headed back to the bus station to go back to Edinburgh.
We thought we could just head off in the general direction and find our way back. Unfortunately this is not how it panned out and we somehow found ourselves at the base of one of Glasgow city’s steepest hills. After walking a few blocks uphill with about 20kgs of luggage, the calves really started to burn and we regretted not consulting a map first. Eventually, we found our way back to the bus station. Actually getting into the bus station proved to be a mission in itself as it seemed that every single bus in Glasgow had decided to call it a morning and head into the station.
The bus ride was very non-eventful, with the highlight being the fact that it did not rain.
There was no high level excitement in the morning, and this continued into the afternoon. We just bummed around downstairs at the bar at the hostel, played cards and chatted to the guys working at St Christopher’s Hostel. After a while we ended it sitting with Kevin, a Canadian who we played drinking games with the other night, and Ragnel, a Norwegian guy who has spent time in the Norwegian army and doesn’t drink. Ragnel was telling us stories about how, as part of their army survival training, they would get dropped down a hole in an ice lake with their skis on; and they would have to kick off their skis and swim back up to the surface in freezing water.
That night we made it our mission to go and have haggis for dinner. So Jez, Kevin, Ragnel and myself found our way to a Haggis and Whiskey bar near the hostel. The haggis tasted no different to what it does in Australia, proving once again that Australia has the best of everything in the world.
We got an early nights sleep on account of the fact that we had to get up early the next morning to get out flight to Dublin.
We thought we could just head off in the general direction and find our way back. Unfortunately this is not how it panned out and we somehow found ourselves at the base of one of Glasgow city’s steepest hills. After walking a few blocks uphill with about 20kgs of luggage, the calves really started to burn and we regretted not consulting a map first. Eventually, we found our way back to the bus station. Actually getting into the bus station proved to be a mission in itself as it seemed that every single bus in Glasgow had decided to call it a morning and head into the station.
The bus ride was very non-eventful, with the highlight being the fact that it did not rain.
There was no high level excitement in the morning, and this continued into the afternoon. We just bummed around downstairs at the bar at the hostel, played cards and chatted to the guys working at St Christopher’s Hostel. After a while we ended it sitting with Kevin, a Canadian who we played drinking games with the other night, and Ragnel, a Norwegian guy who has spent time in the Norwegian army and doesn’t drink. Ragnel was telling us stories about how, as part of their army survival training, they would get dropped down a hole in an ice lake with their skis on; and they would have to kick off their skis and swim back up to the surface in freezing water.
That night we made it our mission to go and have haggis for dinner. So Jez, Kevin, Ragnel and myself found our way to a Haggis and Whiskey bar near the hostel. The haggis tasted no different to what it does in Australia, proving once again that Australia has the best of everything in the world.
We got an early nights sleep on account of the fact that we had to get up early the next morning to get out flight to Dublin.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Day 9 - June 10 - Edinburgh to Glasgow
Monty and I woke at 9:28, feeling very much worse the wear after the excesses of the night before and hustled downstairs to grab what remained of the free hostel breakfast. Having done this, we then hustled back upstairs to back our bags and get all our stuff downstairs for the 10 am checkout. Given that we were both feeling pretty sick and sorry for ourselves, all of this hustling about did not make an ideal start to the day.
Now that we were out of the hostel, there was nothing for it but to head to the bus station (which we eventually found after a significant number of detours) and head towards Glasgow, Scotland's other major city. The bus trip was largely uneventful, with both of us missing all of the scenery that flew past as we caught up on sleep. Once we had arrived and found our way to the hostel (this time with only the one detour), we dumped our bags and set out to explore Glasgow. But first, Monty (who has begun to display almost Marv-esque hunger) insisted that we go and find some lunch. This was an adventure in itself as it briefly sounded as though the woman behind the counter was speaking a foreign language. She was not. She just had a ridiculously strong scottish accent. After finally managing to order what we wanted and forcing it down we set out to see the sights of Glasgow. They were limited. A city surely knows that it is in trouble as a tourist destination when the second thing that Lonely Planet lists as a tourist destination is the necropolis, which we correctly assumed just meant cemetary. That said, it was probably the most impressive cemetary either of us had seen: in a prime location in a hill above the town and populated by the biggest tombstones I have ever seen (some of which were literally almost 5 metres tall).
Whilst wandering through the necropolis, we noticed a nearby cathedral which was absolutely enormous and wandered over to check it out. Once we got inside, we were met by John - a very very enthusiastic volunteer who proceeded to regale us with all sorts of information: St. Mungo's Cathedral is the biggest and oldest in Glasgow and was first built in 543. There have been a number of refurbishments and renovations since then with the biggest being during the reformation, when the protestant reformists tried to burn the Catholic Cathedral to the ground. The Glaswegians defended the Cathedral though and eventually a compromise was reached whereby all of the statues of the saints would be taken outside and smashed up but the Cathedral itself could remain standing. Now that is real talk!
From here we headed back to the hostel and, realising that there was a kitchen, decided to do our bodies a favour and save some money by cooking dinner for ourselves. This was a success with stir-fry ala Monty and Jez definitely hitting the spot, the only problem being that we made (and ate) approximately twice as much as we actually needed. Dinner was good, but the entertainment, which came in the form of watching some of the other people at the hostel play pool, was priceless. In particular, there was this one Australian guy who was the embodiment of every negative stereotype about Australians backpacking in Europe. He was loud, drunk, obnoxious and was aggressively chatting up a number of poor disinterested American girls. This culminated in one of the worst pick-up manouevres I have ever seen. To congratulate one girl on having sunk a shot, he said "I will bow to you" and then promptly bowed (an impressive feat given his level of intoxication). From here we had planned on going out on the town, but the combination of the cold, our general tiredness and the fact that it didn't really look like that there was very much happening meant that we were tucked up in bed well before midnigt and for the first time of the trip not the last ones in our hostel room to go to bed.
'Til Next Time
Jez
Now that we were out of the hostel, there was nothing for it but to head to the bus station (which we eventually found after a significant number of detours) and head towards Glasgow, Scotland's other major city. The bus trip was largely uneventful, with both of us missing all of the scenery that flew past as we caught up on sleep. Once we had arrived and found our way to the hostel (this time with only the one detour), we dumped our bags and set out to explore Glasgow. But first, Monty (who has begun to display almost Marv-esque hunger) insisted that we go and find some lunch. This was an adventure in itself as it briefly sounded as though the woman behind the counter was speaking a foreign language. She was not. She just had a ridiculously strong scottish accent. After finally managing to order what we wanted and forcing it down we set out to see the sights of Glasgow. They were limited. A city surely knows that it is in trouble as a tourist destination when the second thing that Lonely Planet lists as a tourist destination is the necropolis, which we correctly assumed just meant cemetary. That said, it was probably the most impressive cemetary either of us had seen: in a prime location in a hill above the town and populated by the biggest tombstones I have ever seen (some of which were literally almost 5 metres tall).
Whilst wandering through the necropolis, we noticed a nearby cathedral which was absolutely enormous and wandered over to check it out. Once we got inside, we were met by John - a very very enthusiastic volunteer who proceeded to regale us with all sorts of information: St. Mungo's Cathedral is the biggest and oldest in Glasgow and was first built in 543. There have been a number of refurbishments and renovations since then with the biggest being during the reformation, when the protestant reformists tried to burn the Catholic Cathedral to the ground. The Glaswegians defended the Cathedral though and eventually a compromise was reached whereby all of the statues of the saints would be taken outside and smashed up but the Cathedral itself could remain standing. Now that is real talk!
From here we headed back to the hostel and, realising that there was a kitchen, decided to do our bodies a favour and save some money by cooking dinner for ourselves. This was a success with stir-fry ala Monty and Jez definitely hitting the spot, the only problem being that we made (and ate) approximately twice as much as we actually needed. Dinner was good, but the entertainment, which came in the form of watching some of the other people at the hostel play pool, was priceless. In particular, there was this one Australian guy who was the embodiment of every negative stereotype about Australians backpacking in Europe. He was loud, drunk, obnoxious and was aggressively chatting up a number of poor disinterested American girls. This culminated in one of the worst pick-up manouevres I have ever seen. To congratulate one girl on having sunk a shot, he said "I will bow to you" and then promptly bowed (an impressive feat given his level of intoxication). From here we had planned on going out on the town, but the combination of the cold, our general tiredness and the fact that it didn't really look like that there was very much happening meant that we were tucked up in bed well before midnigt and for the first time of the trip not the last ones in our hostel room to go to bed.
'Til Next Time
Jez
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Day 8 - June 9 - Edinburgh
Despite Edinburgh not producing the goods the night before in terms of party atmosphere, we did not wake up the following morning as fresh as we would have liked. Jez and I woke at about 9:20 and rushed downstairs to snatch the remaining parts of breakfast provided by the hostel which consisted of corn flakes and toast.
The next few hours were fairly mundane, which saw us just doing some admin stuff such as blogging, and booking hostels and flights. So, I wont go into that in great detail (in fact at all).
At around midday when headed out to explore Edinburgh. We stepped out of the hostel in extremely different clothes, with Jez going for the shirt, shorts and thongs approach compared to my jumper, jeans and shoes. This started an intense discussion on what would be the ideal clothing in the current climate as Jez and I were over and under dressed respectively.
We walked down the hill from the hostel towards one end of the Royal Mile, which is one Edinburgh's main tourist streets. To the right of the bottom of the street is a hill/mountain (called Arthur's Seat) which looked like it had a good view from the top, so we promptly set off. It was one of the more enjoyable experiences so far as it was a good bit of exercise and the weather was perfect. It was quite steep, with one false step sending you all the way to the bottom. Surprisingly, the fun police had not intervened and there was no handrailing stopping people falling down. This was much to one dog's excitement, we saw, as he bounded up and down the steep slopes into the bushes chasing rabbits.
After that we walked back up the Royal Mile and got amongst the culture and had a chili baked potato for lunch. It was massive and awesome.
After that, at the request of one of or mates (Daz), we headed to the Thistle Chapel in the St Giles Cathedral on the Royal Mile. This chapel has its walls lined with heaps of intricate wood designs that would have taken ages to craft. It was truly one of the more memorable churches I have been to.
After that we headed of to one of Edinburgh's main attractions, Edinburgh Castle which is near the top of the Royal Mile. However, not before poking our heads into a massive building that looked really old, impressive and important....but it turned out to be a cafe.
We headed up to Edinburgh Castle and also paid 2 pounds for the audioguides. This proved to be more humorous rather than informative, with the guide not afraid to use hyperbole and odd expressions. Such classics included the English occupying Edinburgh Castle as a 'festering sore', the Scots subsequently reclaiming Edinburgh Castle as 'a feat of daring do', and some chick dying from a 'broken heart'.
After checking out the views across Edinburgh from Edinburgh Castle, we headed off back to the hostel. On the way back we saw some Scottish buskers (of course playing the bagpipes, which seems to be the only thing Scottish buskers can do).
That night, we went down to the hostel bar and asked a few people if they wanted to play drinking games. Before we new it, there were 11 people crowded around a tiny table playing a variety of games. One of the funnier moments of the night was an extremely inebriated girl (Note: she was already like that before she joined the table) storming off and accusing a bloke from Perth of calling her a 'effing C' when he had done absolutely nothing of the sort.
Some of us headed upstairs to the common room (which Jez and I never knew existed) after a while to continue drinking. Before you knew it, everyone was well on their way and it was approaching 3am. The only trouble with this is that it is getting light outside and you can actually hear birds chirping. With this knowledge, we headed off to bed and tried not to wake the 8 other people sleeping in our hostel room.
'Till we blog again,
Monty
The next few hours were fairly mundane, which saw us just doing some admin stuff such as blogging, and booking hostels and flights. So, I wont go into that in great detail (in fact at all).
At around midday when headed out to explore Edinburgh. We stepped out of the hostel in extremely different clothes, with Jez going for the shirt, shorts and thongs approach compared to my jumper, jeans and shoes. This started an intense discussion on what would be the ideal clothing in the current climate as Jez and I were over and under dressed respectively.
We walked down the hill from the hostel towards one end of the Royal Mile, which is one Edinburgh's main tourist streets. To the right of the bottom of the street is a hill/mountain (called Arthur's Seat) which looked like it had a good view from the top, so we promptly set off. It was one of the more enjoyable experiences so far as it was a good bit of exercise and the weather was perfect. It was quite steep, with one false step sending you all the way to the bottom. Surprisingly, the fun police had not intervened and there was no handrailing stopping people falling down. This was much to one dog's excitement, we saw, as he bounded up and down the steep slopes into the bushes chasing rabbits.
After that we walked back up the Royal Mile and got amongst the culture and had a chili baked potato for lunch. It was massive and awesome.
After that, at the request of one of or mates (Daz), we headed to the Thistle Chapel in the St Giles Cathedral on the Royal Mile. This chapel has its walls lined with heaps of intricate wood designs that would have taken ages to craft. It was truly one of the more memorable churches I have been to.
After that we headed of to one of Edinburgh's main attractions, Edinburgh Castle which is near the top of the Royal Mile. However, not before poking our heads into a massive building that looked really old, impressive and important....but it turned out to be a cafe.
We headed up to Edinburgh Castle and also paid 2 pounds for the audioguides. This proved to be more humorous rather than informative, with the guide not afraid to use hyperbole and odd expressions. Such classics included the English occupying Edinburgh Castle as a 'festering sore', the Scots subsequently reclaiming Edinburgh Castle as 'a feat of daring do', and some chick dying from a 'broken heart'.
After checking out the views across Edinburgh from Edinburgh Castle, we headed off back to the hostel. On the way back we saw some Scottish buskers (of course playing the bagpipes, which seems to be the only thing Scottish buskers can do).
That night, we went down to the hostel bar and asked a few people if they wanted to play drinking games. Before we new it, there were 11 people crowded around a tiny table playing a variety of games. One of the funnier moments of the night was an extremely inebriated girl (Note: she was already like that before she joined the table) storming off and accusing a bloke from Perth of calling her a 'effing C' when he had done absolutely nothing of the sort.
Some of us headed upstairs to the common room (which Jez and I never knew existed) after a while to continue drinking. Before you knew it, everyone was well on their way and it was approaching 3am. The only trouble with this is that it is getting light outside and you can actually hear birds chirping. With this knowledge, we headed off to bed and tried not to wake the 8 other people sleeping in our hostel room.
'Till we blog again,
Monty
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Day 7 - June 8 - London to Edinburgh
After having gone to bed (or in my case couch) sober for once, Monty and I woke at a reasonable hour, said our goodbyes to Phil and set about getting ourselves ready to head off to Edinburgh. This involved doing our laundry (we ended up not leaving nearly enough time for our stuff to dry), going to the post office (which was possibly the longest hour of my life), catching up on the blog and finalising our travel plans for Europe.
Having accomplished all of this we set off for the airport at about 3:20 - giving us 3 hours to make it to Luton, check our bags and get on the plane. We thought this was a comfortable margin. We were wrong. This particularly hit home when we got off the train at the station (Luton Airport Parkway) with about 18 minutes to go until check-in for our flight closed. By the time we boarded the shuttle bus it was 12. By the time the shuttle bus actually left the train station it was 9. By the time we got to the airport it was 4 and by the time we actually got to the check-in desk it was approximately 90 seconds. Thankfully this was not a problem and our first major disaster of the trip was avoided. As Monty remarked it was very efficient timing on our part and a bit of light exercise - sprinting through the airport with all of our bags.
The flight itself was uneventful and we got to Edinburgh at approx. 8:30 pm to be greeted by clear blue skies and blazing sunshine (which would persist until about 10 when it finally went down). We then headed to the hostel where we settled in a corner of the bar to drink cheap cocktails and play trivia. Monty and I were pretty successful in this endeavour, narrowly coming second to a team that seemed to have about 15 people. After this and a few more beers we headed out with some people from the hostel to see what monday night in Edinburgh had to offer. The answer was not much. Thankfully, sense prevailed (much to Monty's dismay) and we headed home, having decided that we should save ourselves for the next day.
Hope all is well back home.
Jez
Having accomplished all of this we set off for the airport at about 3:20 - giving us 3 hours to make it to Luton, check our bags and get on the plane. We thought this was a comfortable margin. We were wrong. This particularly hit home when we got off the train at the station (Luton Airport Parkway) with about 18 minutes to go until check-in for our flight closed. By the time we boarded the shuttle bus it was 12. By the time the shuttle bus actually left the train station it was 9. By the time we got to the airport it was 4 and by the time we actually got to the check-in desk it was approximately 90 seconds. Thankfully this was not a problem and our first major disaster of the trip was avoided. As Monty remarked it was very efficient timing on our part and a bit of light exercise - sprinting through the airport with all of our bags.
The flight itself was uneventful and we got to Edinburgh at approx. 8:30 pm to be greeted by clear blue skies and blazing sunshine (which would persist until about 10 when it finally went down). We then headed to the hostel where we settled in a corner of the bar to drink cheap cocktails and play trivia. Monty and I were pretty successful in this endeavour, narrowly coming second to a team that seemed to have about 15 people. After this and a few more beers we headed out with some people from the hostel to see what monday night in Edinburgh had to offer. The answer was not much. Thankfully, sense prevailed (much to Monty's dismay) and we headed home, having decided that we should save ourselves for the next day.
Hope all is well back home.
Jez
Monday, June 8, 2009
Day 6 - June 7 - London
After a 3rd straight night on the piss after going to bed past 3am, Jez and I were feeling especially vulnerable. However, this was no place for the faint hearted because, as fate would have it, it was my 24th birthday.
So, I ask you, where else would 2 Aussie bachelors head on a Sunday in London? Thats right, we hopped on the tube and headed straight for The Church.
For those of you who havent had the 'pleasure' of visiting said Church, it really is a special experience. On a Sunday, it is only open from the hours of 12pm-4pm. It may only be open for a few hours in the middle of Sunday, but it is surprising how much partying can be done there.
So Jez and I lined up, surrounded by Ninja Turtles, cows, Buzz Lightyear and a variety of other costumes. This was due to the fact that entry was half price if you wore something outrageous.
After stepping through the doors, it was clear that everyone was there to party. It was only 12:30, but the dance floor was packed and the line to the bar was chockers. We went and got some drinks and headed out onto the dance floor. After a while, a stripper got up on stage (Which apparently happens every Sunday. Did we mention that the Church really is a classy establishment?)
After the performance, Jez and I decided that it was time to bring out our costumes. We headed off to a corner and took off our jeans and shirts, leaving only our shoes and 'budgy smugglers' that were purchased especially for the trip.
This turned out to be a real crowd pleaser, with Jez and I elevated to almost celebrity-like status. We spent the majority of the rest of the afternoon posing for photos and getting our butts pinched (or in Jezs case, bitten). We had a great afternoon, but like all goods things it had to come to an end, so we went and put our kit back on.
From then, the 'after party' was at the Shepherds Bush Walkabout. We followed the (now very much inebriated) crowd where we partied on a bit more. We then decided that it was time to call it a day and Jez headed off to meet up with Anna, Nick and Caroline. I headed off and had dinner with Phil and the 2 girls we had randomly met the night before.
It was a good solid way to celebrate my birthday; however, I dont think Ill be rushing back to the Church anytime soon.
Cheers,
Monty
So, I ask you, where else would 2 Aussie bachelors head on a Sunday in London? Thats right, we hopped on the tube and headed straight for The Church.
For those of you who havent had the 'pleasure' of visiting said Church, it really is a special experience. On a Sunday, it is only open from the hours of 12pm-4pm. It may only be open for a few hours in the middle of Sunday, but it is surprising how much partying can be done there.
So Jez and I lined up, surrounded by Ninja Turtles, cows, Buzz Lightyear and a variety of other costumes. This was due to the fact that entry was half price if you wore something outrageous.
After stepping through the doors, it was clear that everyone was there to party. It was only 12:30, but the dance floor was packed and the line to the bar was chockers. We went and got some drinks and headed out onto the dance floor. After a while, a stripper got up on stage (Which apparently happens every Sunday. Did we mention that the Church really is a classy establishment?)
After the performance, Jez and I decided that it was time to bring out our costumes. We headed off to a corner and took off our jeans and shirts, leaving only our shoes and 'budgy smugglers' that were purchased especially for the trip.
This turned out to be a real crowd pleaser, with Jez and I elevated to almost celebrity-like status. We spent the majority of the rest of the afternoon posing for photos and getting our butts pinched (or in Jezs case, bitten). We had a great afternoon, but like all goods things it had to come to an end, so we went and put our kit back on.
From then, the 'after party' was at the Shepherds Bush Walkabout. We followed the (now very much inebriated) crowd where we partied on a bit more. We then decided that it was time to call it a day and Jez headed off to meet up with Anna, Nick and Caroline. I headed off and had dinner with Phil and the 2 girls we had randomly met the night before.
It was a good solid way to celebrate my birthday; however, I dont think Ill be rushing back to the Church anytime soon.
Cheers,
Monty
Day 5 - June 6 - Lodnon
Monty and myself woke at a reasonable hour and given that the TV was having all sorts of trouble showing the Wallabies Barbarians game, decided to head to a local pub, have a brunch burger and watch it. Buoyed by the Wallabies victory, we headed back to Phil's place to catch up on blogging, book flights and get some shut-eye.
We did this for a few hours before heading to Clapham South to meet up with an English friend of Monty's from Colleagues at a pub for our first of many drinks of the day. After staying here for about an hour we headed to Clapham Common to meet up with Sumbak, Deansy and Matty (friends from Wesley) and Frank and Kieran (two of their friends) to watch the Socceroos qualifier. We watched the game and (in typical fashion) had a few quiet beers to celebrate our passage to South Africa. Following this we decided to play poker, which is where the night really began to kick-off. This was in large past due to Frank who mandated that various indiscretions at the poker table be punished with shots of Sambucca. Things escalated quickly.
After Deansy's regrettable voctory at the poker table, we decided to play drinking games, which caused a significant upswing in the amount of shots being consumed. Once we ran out of alcohol, we headed to a bar in Clapham Common which we were to soon find was populated almost entirely by Australians. After a few more drinks here, by which time we were all pretty hammered, we headed to a placed called Inferno on the promise (from Rossy) that it was Stand-esque. We were not disappointed. Being after midnight, it was now Monty's birthday so we decided to CS on the DF. After a while of this we went and got a very sub-standard kebab, chatted with some random Aussie chicks in the rain (one of whom seemed very keen to wish Monty a happy birthday) and then wandered home. It was an appropriately random end to a massive, massive day and night.
'Til Tomorrow
Jez
We did this for a few hours before heading to Clapham South to meet up with an English friend of Monty's from Colleagues at a pub for our first of many drinks of the day. After staying here for about an hour we headed to Clapham Common to meet up with Sumbak, Deansy and Matty (friends from Wesley) and Frank and Kieran (two of their friends) to watch the Socceroos qualifier. We watched the game and (in typical fashion) had a few quiet beers to celebrate our passage to South Africa. Following this we decided to play poker, which is where the night really began to kick-off. This was in large past due to Frank who mandated that various indiscretions at the poker table be punished with shots of Sambucca. Things escalated quickly.
After Deansy's regrettable voctory at the poker table, we decided to play drinking games, which caused a significant upswing in the amount of shots being consumed. Once we ran out of alcohol, we headed to a bar in Clapham Common which we were to soon find was populated almost entirely by Australians. After a few more drinks here, by which time we were all pretty hammered, we headed to a placed called Inferno on the promise (from Rossy) that it was Stand-esque. We were not disappointed. Being after midnight, it was now Monty's birthday so we decided to CS on the DF. After a while of this we went and got a very sub-standard kebab, chatted with some random Aussie chicks in the rain (one of whom seemed very keen to wish Monty a happy birthday) and then wandered home. It was an appropriately random end to a massive, massive day and night.
'Til Tomorrow
Jez
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Day 4 - June 5 - London
After the late night the night before, myself and Jez woke up in the late morning and early afternoon respectively. After bumming around for a while and watching an episode of one of my new favourite shows, 'The Inbetweeners', we set off into the city to buy Rail Pass tickets so we can get around mainland Europe.
The guy who helped us buy the tickets at National Rail was from Spain, who kept telling us how one day he is going to end up in Australia and how he doesnt really care for English people (we were able to bond over this). Each ticket was going to cost 550 quid (we are really getting into the lingo here).
As we would incur a 2% surcharge if we paid by card, we hopped off to the Barclays ATM up the street. Some quick maths: 2 travellers x 550 pounds each = Over AUD2,000. We were walking back down the street suspecting everyone, including little old ladies.
Thankfully nothing untoward happened and we paid for out rail tickets, which give us 15 days train travel over the course of 2 months.
That night, Jez, Phil and I met up with Anna and Nick (the Aussies Jez knew in NY), Caz (one of the girls we went with to Romeo and Juliet the night before) and a bunch people from Wesley in the year above us (including Deansy and Sumbak). After a few ales near Liverpool Street station, we were off to Brick Lane for some dinner. Although we had vegan the other day, Brick Lane is actually known for its curry. One of the highlights of the night was haggling with the guys outside the restaurants trying to entice us in with discounts. After a few intense negotiations, we decided on a place that would give us 30% off everything, plus 3 bottles of wine for the girls and 2 pints of beer for each guy.
Needless to say, things escalated quite quickly, and before you knew it we were well on our way. After dinner we went out to a pub which name started with Piano, but not before taking a detour to the pub where Jack the Ripper supposedly found his victims.
At the pub there was 2-for-1 cocktails and more beers. At this point Wylie, a mate of ours from college rocked up who had obviously been consuming the amber ales in great quantities earlier in the evening. He went straight to the bar and got those who were left a shot of tequila and a beer. After some in depth D&M's we decided to head home. As it would have taken ages for Caz to get home, Jez very kindly offered half his couch (what a guy).
All in all, another good night.
Stay safe Australia,
Monty
The guy who helped us buy the tickets at National Rail was from Spain, who kept telling us how one day he is going to end up in Australia and how he doesnt really care for English people (we were able to bond over this). Each ticket was going to cost 550 quid (we are really getting into the lingo here).
As we would incur a 2% surcharge if we paid by card, we hopped off to the Barclays ATM up the street. Some quick maths: 2 travellers x 550 pounds each = Over AUD2,000. We were walking back down the street suspecting everyone, including little old ladies.
Thankfully nothing untoward happened and we paid for out rail tickets, which give us 15 days train travel over the course of 2 months.
That night, Jez, Phil and I met up with Anna and Nick (the Aussies Jez knew in NY), Caz (one of the girls we went with to Romeo and Juliet the night before) and a bunch people from Wesley in the year above us (including Deansy and Sumbak). After a few ales near Liverpool Street station, we were off to Brick Lane for some dinner. Although we had vegan the other day, Brick Lane is actually known for its curry. One of the highlights of the night was haggling with the guys outside the restaurants trying to entice us in with discounts. After a few intense negotiations, we decided on a place that would give us 30% off everything, plus 3 bottles of wine for the girls and 2 pints of beer for each guy.
Needless to say, things escalated quite quickly, and before you knew it we were well on our way. After dinner we went out to a pub which name started with Piano, but not before taking a detour to the pub where Jack the Ripper supposedly found his victims.
At the pub there was 2-for-1 cocktails and more beers. At this point Wylie, a mate of ours from college rocked up who had obviously been consuming the amber ales in great quantities earlier in the evening. He went straight to the bar and got those who were left a shot of tequila and a beer. After some in depth D&M's we decided to head home. As it would have taken ages for Caz to get home, Jez very kindly offered half his couch (what a guy).
All in all, another good night.
Stay safe Australia,
Monty
Friday, June 5, 2009
Day 3 - July 4 - London
After a second consecutive solid night's sleep Monty and myself woke late and feeling that the effects of jetlag were behind us. After having spent the previous couple of days wandering the streets we decided to spend the day sorting out our travel arrangements for the rest of our trip and then have a bit more of a wander.
We went and spoke to the people at the Euro-rail office, went to St. Paul's Cathedral, walked across the Millennium Bridge and then had a look at the Tate Museum of Modern Art which is a massive converted warehouse. As usual, I found some of the art pretty cool but I got the feeling that most if not all of it flew straight over my head...
By this stage it was mid-afternoon so we headed back to Clapham where we were planning on doing some exercise and finalise the details for our flights. However, one our arrival back at Phil's place we found that the key was not where we had left it and we were officially locked out. So there was nothing for it but to grab some lunch from Sainsbury's and go and sit in Clapham Common and pass a couple of hours before Phil or her housemates returned home so we could get in. This was largely uneventful apart from us witnessing the London bobbies spring into action in apprehending some dude. This was particularly funny because the female cop was doing absolutely nothing while a random guy on the street helped the male cop restrain the apparent criminal who was screaming at the top of his lungs. The whole scene was made all the more strange by the arrival of a double-decker bus with no roof, with some guy shouting over a loud speaker telling everyone to vote for the 'Jury Team' during the upcoming European elections.
Eventually we headed back to Phil's place where we were soon let in by her housemate Claire but we had no time to dawdle, heading straight back out the door to meet up with Holly, Caz and Maz, a few friends of mine from Sydney who now live over here with whom we were going to see Romeo and Juliet that night.
This was definitely the highlight of the day as the play was put on at the Globe Theatre which is where the plays were actually held in Shakespeare's day. This was especially cool as the theatre has been restored in the same style as it once was, though the drawback of this was it meant we had to stand for the duration of the play which was over three hours.
Writer's Note: Monty has taken over writing
After the play, with very sore feet, we headed to the nearest pub. After only one drink, we discovered to our horror that the pub was not serving any more drinks. Therefore, it was decided that we must head to the 'Roadhouse', which is a London equivalent of Skubar. No IDs were needed, there was a 7 pound cover charge, a live band and it was packed. It was a good solid night out, with plenty of singing along to the live band and dancing. We met some guys from Brazil who were trying to crack onto anything that moved, much to Phil's annoyance as she had to repeatedly stop their advances. Suddenly it was 3 am and we decided that it was time to head home which we managed via a late night double-decker bus which featured a rather lengthy convo about costume moustaches with some randoms on the bus. Great night all round...
'Til next Time!
Jez and Monty
We went and spoke to the people at the Euro-rail office, went to St. Paul's Cathedral, walked across the Millennium Bridge and then had a look at the Tate Museum of Modern Art which is a massive converted warehouse. As usual, I found some of the art pretty cool but I got the feeling that most if not all of it flew straight over my head...
By this stage it was mid-afternoon so we headed back to Clapham where we were planning on doing some exercise and finalise the details for our flights. However, one our arrival back at Phil's place we found that the key was not where we had left it and we were officially locked out. So there was nothing for it but to grab some lunch from Sainsbury's and go and sit in Clapham Common and pass a couple of hours before Phil or her housemates returned home so we could get in. This was largely uneventful apart from us witnessing the London bobbies spring into action in apprehending some dude. This was particularly funny because the female cop was doing absolutely nothing while a random guy on the street helped the male cop restrain the apparent criminal who was screaming at the top of his lungs. The whole scene was made all the more strange by the arrival of a double-decker bus with no roof, with some guy shouting over a loud speaker telling everyone to vote for the 'Jury Team' during the upcoming European elections.
Eventually we headed back to Phil's place where we were soon let in by her housemate Claire but we had no time to dawdle, heading straight back out the door to meet up with Holly, Caz and Maz, a few friends of mine from Sydney who now live over here with whom we were going to see Romeo and Juliet that night.
This was definitely the highlight of the day as the play was put on at the Globe Theatre which is where the plays were actually held in Shakespeare's day. This was especially cool as the theatre has been restored in the same style as it once was, though the drawback of this was it meant we had to stand for the duration of the play which was over three hours.
Writer's Note: Monty has taken over writing
After the play, with very sore feet, we headed to the nearest pub. After only one drink, we discovered to our horror that the pub was not serving any more drinks. Therefore, it was decided that we must head to the 'Roadhouse', which is a London equivalent of Skubar. No IDs were needed, there was a 7 pound cover charge, a live band and it was packed. It was a good solid night out, with plenty of singing along to the live band and dancing. We met some guys from Brazil who were trying to crack onto anything that moved, much to Phil's annoyance as she had to repeatedly stop their advances. Suddenly it was 3 am and we decided that it was time to head home which we managed via a late night double-decker bus which featured a rather lengthy convo about costume moustaches with some randoms on the bus. Great night all round...
'Til next Time!
Jez and Monty
Thursday, June 4, 2009
June 3 - London
After a fairly good sleep, Jez and I both woke up with the sun high in the sky after it has risen at approximately 4:52 in the morning. For breakfast we had some good old fashioned vegemite on toast - the breakfast of Australian champions.
After a small debacle in which we could not find our house key (Phil, the girl we are staying with had left it in her jumper she was wearing the night before, which she had neatly folded and put away), we set off to watch the state of origin, which kicked off at about 11am GMT. So, we went to the most Australian place outside of Australia - the Walkabout pub at Shepherds Bush.
Hoping out of the station, the walked past Westfield's flagship store in London (its great to see Aussie business making it overseas). The pub was packed, with probably the greatest gathering of Australians outside Oz. Unfortunately, the blues went down. However, not before 2 pints of snakebites and a pint of beer were consumed - All before 12:30pm.
After this, we met up with some Aussies over in London that Jez knew who had also been in NY at the same time with him. We went to brick lane which was very cool with lots of random cafes and restaurants. We ate at a vegan place (which turned out had very good food). The most appealing thing about this cafe was that it actually used to be a London double decker bus, with the kitchen downstairs and seating upstairs.
With the snakebites and jetlag still hanging over our heads, all 4 of us promptly had a little nap on the bus after lunch, only waking up to the French waiter who thought it was 'Wicked' we were asleep.
In the afternoon we went and Phil who works at STA to try and get some transportation planned/booked for the coming months.
For dinner we cooked chicken pasta and then dutifully went to bed, where it looks like that darn jetlag will hopefully go away.
Cheers,
Monty
After a small debacle in which we could not find our house key (Phil, the girl we are staying with had left it in her jumper she was wearing the night before, which she had neatly folded and put away), we set off to watch the state of origin, which kicked off at about 11am GMT. So, we went to the most Australian place outside of Australia - the Walkabout pub at Shepherds Bush.
Hoping out of the station, the walked past Westfield's flagship store in London (its great to see Aussie business making it overseas). The pub was packed, with probably the greatest gathering of Australians outside Oz. Unfortunately, the blues went down. However, not before 2 pints of snakebites and a pint of beer were consumed - All before 12:30pm.
After this, we met up with some Aussies over in London that Jez knew who had also been in NY at the same time with him. We went to brick lane which was very cool with lots of random cafes and restaurants. We ate at a vegan place (which turned out had very good food). The most appealing thing about this cafe was that it actually used to be a London double decker bus, with the kitchen downstairs and seating upstairs.
With the snakebites and jetlag still hanging over our heads, all 4 of us promptly had a little nap on the bus after lunch, only waking up to the French waiter who thought it was 'Wicked' we were asleep.
In the afternoon we went and Phil who works at STA to try and get some transportation planned/booked for the coming months.
For dinner we cooked chicken pasta and then dutifully went to bed, where it looks like that darn jetlag will hopefully go away.
Cheers,
Monty
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Introduction
Welcome to new readers, and welcome back to the veterans from Blazin' USA.
This blog will follow the adventures and misadventures of Monty and Jez across the great continent of Europa. In the grand tradition of Blazin' USA, STILL BLAZIN' will be strictly PG, which means that it will be riddled with in-jokes and carefully cloaked innuendo...
So settle yourselves in, sign yourselves up as a followers and try not to be too jealous as you read our daily entries.
This blog will follow the adventures and misadventures of Monty and Jez across the great continent of Europa. In the grand tradition of Blazin' USA, STILL BLAZIN' will be strictly PG, which means that it will be riddled with in-jokes and carefully cloaked innuendo...
So settle yourselves in, sign yourselves up as a followers and try not to be too jealous as you read our daily entries.
June 2 - Day 1 - Arrival in London
After a sad departure from New York the night before and a completely sleepless but otherwise pleasant flight across the Atlantic, I arrived at Heathrow at 6:30 in the morning and was very glad to be met by radiant sunshine. I was also pleasantly surprised that the queue to get through immigration was relatively short and that I was not held up at all going through customs, despite having a jar of vegemite that I was attempting to declare.
The next challenge was to find the place I was staying and this turned out to be a bit of a mission, but given that I had neither the number of the house I was looking for, nor a mobile phone it was something of a miracle that I found it at all. After successfully negotiating the tube with my enormous backpack in tow, I arrived at Clapham North station which is where my adventures really began. Monty had given me the street name (Felmersham Close) and a sequence of letters and numbers (sw4 7eu) which I had mistakenly assumed was a house number of some description (but it turns our was actually a postcode). However, with the help of a bloke on the street who could look up maps on his iPhone and from a kindly old woman on the street who pointed me in the direction of "the house with students" I was soon knocking on the door and stoked to be greeted by Monty and Phil, a friend of his from highschool days who was to be our hostess for the next few nights.
After a much-needed shower and a quick catch-up on various things, we headed out to wander the streets of London. We managed to do this pretty successfully - our aimlesss wandering taking us on something of a monopoly board route before jetlag got the better of me and we needed to head back to Clapham North to regroup.
An hour or two later we headed out to meet Andie Christie and a number of her friends who were having a few drinks which was fun, despite the fact that we were a very random addition. However, soon the combined effect of a couple of pints and jetlag were making the eyelids very heavy and we headed home earlyish to get a good night's sleep.
All in all a good start to our European adventure!
'Til next time,
Jez
The next challenge was to find the place I was staying and this turned out to be a bit of a mission, but given that I had neither the number of the house I was looking for, nor a mobile phone it was something of a miracle that I found it at all. After successfully negotiating the tube with my enormous backpack in tow, I arrived at Clapham North station which is where my adventures really began. Monty had given me the street name (Felmersham Close) and a sequence of letters and numbers (sw4 7eu) which I had mistakenly assumed was a house number of some description (but it turns our was actually a postcode). However, with the help of a bloke on the street who could look up maps on his iPhone and from a kindly old woman on the street who pointed me in the direction of "the house with students" I was soon knocking on the door and stoked to be greeted by Monty and Phil, a friend of his from highschool days who was to be our hostess for the next few nights.
After a much-needed shower and a quick catch-up on various things, we headed out to wander the streets of London. We managed to do this pretty successfully - our aimlesss wandering taking us on something of a monopoly board route before jetlag got the better of me and we needed to head back to Clapham North to regroup.
An hour or two later we headed out to meet Andie Christie and a number of her friends who were having a few drinks which was fun, despite the fact that we were a very random addition. However, soon the combined effect of a couple of pints and jetlag were making the eyelids very heavy and we headed home earlyish to get a good night's sleep.
All in all a good start to our European adventure!
'Til next time,
Jez
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