Oscar and Ernie playing!
Why go around if you can go through??!!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Monday, December 10, 2007
Rule Britannia
Last time we made it to London we managed to spend four days here, see Buckingham palace, complain about the weather and leave. This time I hoped things would go a little better, maybe we would see a little bit more. Do some touristy stuff, I don't really need to ingratiate myself into English culture, I did that last time (i.e. I complained about the weather and got drunk!!). Just touristy stuff was our plan. At some point in our life Melissah and I will work out that there is little point in us planning for anything! We managed to fit in some touristy stuff, saw London Bridge 3, saw Camden Markets and the Tate Britain (the list of stuff we didn't do is still longer) with Matt and Gem. Gem and Melissah did go see a musical (thankfully Gem was in town and I dodged a Wicked (Wizard of Oz Prequel) shaped bullet) but mainly we hung out amongst one of London's ethnic minorities, Australian's on working Visa's. To be quite honest it was probably more fun than going to the Tower of London or British museum but it wasn't part of the original plan. Typical of our luck we managed to be in London on the weekend when England knocked Australia out of the Rugby World Cup. Ouch. The worst part was you couldn't pretend to be a Kiwi either (it's easy you say fush instead fish) because they got beaten aswell. Although as a side note I noticed in the French side, Sebastien Chabal had joined the Allan Broadbent Appreciation Society and was wearing his long hair and beard with pride. His willingness to take my look to the world stage meant I had to take a few steps back on my critiscims of France and enjoy a little admiration for the man.
So when we left London on the Monday it was all smiles from me as we were headed to Cardiff. Now I know everyone out there thinks I exude cool, if you need your beer cooled quickly stand near me, I'm that cool. It's time to let you in on a little secret, I was excited to be heading to Cardiff not to see a little country side or for the Millennium stadium, I was excited because Dr Who and Torchwood are filmed in Cardiff. Now that I have said that I need you to stop and think back to that one cool thing I have done that you were there for. Thinking time begins now.... Did you find that memory? You still think I'm cool. So while Melissah worked, I got to get up every morning/early afternoon and strolled around Cardiff saying I remember that and that and that. Then you ask locals what they think and most of them couldn't care less. I spoke to one guy though and he reckons he's been in the background twice changing street lights. A massive claim to fame I would have thought. That's about all I really did in Cardiff. Melissah worked, I went all nerd and then we went to Belfast.
So onwards to Dublin, hoping to put as much distance between us and the fools that pay that kind of money for a photo. So we went to Dublin to walk the streets of Temple Bar and hit the Guiness Factory. Of the two, the Guiness factory was my favourite. You walk around this huge part of the old factory, learn how the process goes and then when you get to the very top you get a pint of Guiness to enjoy while you look out over Dublin. Have to say it is worth doing. The most surprising part was that I was looking forward to my pint and then drinking Melissah's but due to it's freshness and lightness and smoother taste at the factory, Melissah was selfish and drank hers all on her own. I was left with just one drink. An Australian guy up there was befriending anyone who didn't like their beer and was taking it off them. He wasn't that drunk when we left but he was going to be! I'm pretty sure that's how we get our bad name/good name. The BEST part of Dublin though was the deal we got on car parking. We left a car in a U Park type place for two or three nights and only paid €26. What a steal. It's an insight into what is thrilling us at the moment when a savings of €50 makes the highlights. When you watch your back account drain away before your very eyes any small monetary victory is worth a lap of honour.
So when we left London on the Monday it was all smiles from me as we were headed to Cardiff. Now I know everyone out there thinks I exude cool, if you need your beer cooled quickly stand near me, I'm that cool. It's time to let you in on a little secret, I was excited to be heading to Cardiff not to see a little country side or for the Millennium stadium, I was excited because Dr Who and Torchwood are filmed in Cardiff. Now that I have said that I need you to stop and think back to that one cool thing I have done that you were there for. Thinking time begins now.... Did you find that memory? You still think I'm cool. So while Melissah worked, I got to get up every morning/early afternoon and strolled around Cardiff saying I remember that and that and that. Then you ask locals what they think and most of them couldn't care less. I spoke to one guy though and he reckons he's been in the background twice changing street lights. A massive claim to fame I would have thought. That's about all I really did in Cardiff. Melissah worked, I went all nerd and then we went to Belfast.
When Melissah finally finished working (it was only three days or so but still!) we got back into backpacker mode. First off we left our comfortable bed and room service at the Holiday Inn and moved back into a room at a backpackers, then instead of going out for a meal at a restaurant where people come and serve you, we cooked a cheap tomato pasta. I didn't remember back packing being so difficult. You have 10 days off and it becomes the hardest thing in the world. So Belfast, what a mean history this place has. Seriously the centre of the city is perfect, nothing feels untoward at all. In fact you go anywhere in the city centre and you could be in any other European city. Step into the suburbs and things tell a different story. Everything here is so close to the surface I don't honestly think you could call it history yet. There are murials for Protestants who killed Catholics and Catholics who killed Protestants yet the more you see the less these religions have much to do with it. They say they are on the way to peace but I can't see there being a lasting peace when the kerbs on one side of the road are painted blue, red and white and on the other they are orange, green and white. It's like the bloods and the crips. Territories have been marked. A 15 metre high wall separating the two sides doesn't help even if you call it a "peace wall". A wall's a wall. They never work, look at Berlin or what about Palestine and Israel. It's not going to work for long. We went to Derry. That was a bit different to Belfast. That was the site of Bloody Sunday. Who knew U2 wrote about an actual event. They actually like U2 here by the way. I would have thought they would have tired of them a while back but it turns out they haven't. Anyway back on track. Derry just feels different. In Belfast, it seemed a bit tit for tat, the way it's remembered is a bit finger pointing and he said she said. In Derry though there's no blame assigned to anyone (well not that I saw, and I had my eyes open for it!), they have chosen to remember it as civil rights struggle. So it was a little bit more about how the whole thing began rather than the whole tit for tat thing that Belfast was. It was a pretty tough day though. We spoke to an Irish lady there who was there on the Sunday and she took us to the point where she was and told us the shit she saw go down. But that's her story and it's not mine to tell; so if you ever go let me know and I'll tell you how to find her and hear it for yourself!
We hired a car while we were in Ireland and drove down to Dublin via everywhere else on the way. We hummed and ahhed about getting "no excess" put on the car in the end we decided to add for the extra 15 pounds it was worth as on the last day there was "an incident"! So we went to Galway looking for Fitzgerald memorabilia. Unfortunately we found that we were looking in the wrong place according to all the literature we found the FitzGerald name is originally French and that pleased Melissah like you wouldn't believe. We eventually found one tiny piece of paper that said FitzGerald was German not French so she bought that one. It doesn't matter though because I know the truth. Then we spent a whole day taking photos of shops with FitzGerald on the door. I don't know if anyone has heard of this but go with me, during the National Socialist rule of Germany a forest worker outside of Berlin was planting a forest and in the midst of it using a different tree (the leaves go brown much earlier than the rest of the forest) he planted a giant swastika. So now day's during Autumn you can see this massive swastika from the air. (They have tried to remove but it grows back apparently) Well anyway the only other highlight from Galway was that someone had used the same theory but instead of an evil swastika it was massive Celtic rings. Following Galway we travelled down to Cork and by extension Blarney Castle. It was at this point we remembered we aren't really tourists. Well not at this point, when we reached the top of Blarney Castle and had to lean backwards over the edge kiss a stone that the locals apparently piss on at night, then they take the photo and sell it back to you for €10. Sorry buddy. It's not happening here. We left, shaking our head and working out what idiots pay the money for the photo. My theory, the same idiots that pose holding up the "Leaning Tower of Pisa".
So onwards to Dublin, hoping to put as much distance between us and the fools that pay that kind of money for a photo. So we went to Dublin to walk the streets of Temple Bar and hit the Guiness Factory. Of the two, the Guiness factory was my favourite. You walk around this huge part of the old factory, learn how the process goes and then when you get to the very top you get a pint of Guiness to enjoy while you look out over Dublin. Have to say it is worth doing. The most surprising part was that I was looking forward to my pint and then drinking Melissah's but due to it's freshness and lightness and smoother taste at the factory, Melissah was selfish and drank hers all on her own. I was left with just one drink. An Australian guy up there was befriending anyone who didn't like their beer and was taking it off them. He wasn't that drunk when we left but he was going to be! I'm pretty sure that's how we get our bad name/good name. The BEST part of Dublin though was the deal we got on car parking. We left a car in a U Park type place for two or three nights and only paid €26. What a steal. It's an insight into what is thrilling us at the moment when a savings of €50 makes the highlights. When you watch your back account drain away before your very eyes any small monetary victory is worth a lap of honour.
In Belfast we returned a slightly damaged rental car, Melissah is insisting it was me but I think the car was a little starved of attention and decided to hurt itself to get our attention. Anyway we returned it and I hope it's gone off to get the attention we couldn't give it. We then flew back to the UK, merely to get on a flight to Turkey. When we arrived we jumped in a cab and asked to be taken to London Road in Luton. Simple task, it's a major road. Our crafty taxi driver decided that by London Road we meant London and proceeded to the highway. We were on to him and his crafty ways though. Don't know what it is at the moment but people are really trying to take advantage of our good natured and relaxed ways. Good thing we are going to Turkey now, no one will take advantage of us there!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The Unfinished Spanish Galleon
Where did we leave this story kids? Were we up to the part where I slayed the dragon and rode off into the sun with the now rescued Melissah over my shoulder? No.. Well that will give you something to look forward to. We arrived in Spain after the disaster that was a two night stop over in France. We have (in Allan and Melissah world) officially declared the area between Germany and Spain an ocean. It hasn't been named yet but expect it sound something like the Aglio or Knoblauch Ocean. Check the photos for this new world order. By the way Monaco is now an Island, we tripled its coast line. Once again I have wandered off topic, I can tell when this happens because Melissah tuts very loudly over my shoulder as she reads it.
So we arrived in Spain, well Barcelona to be accurate. Were we in a good mood? Not particularly. We were in any type of mood to deal with idiots? Not really. Is patience a virtue Melissah and I have been naturally blessed with? I think that's a no. We get off the metro near the hostel, at this point we had travelled 14 hours from Paris, overnight and thus breaking the rule of no more overnight trains! Surprisingly though I did happen to learn from my past mistakes and did stay off the turps, although this was made easy due to the fact the train didn't have a resturant car. All I wanted was a nice paella, a beer and a nap or if I couldn't have those a shower would have done. So we are walking through the streets near the hostel and a spanish guy walks up to us and says "'Scuse me, can you direct me to X station (I use X because I can't remember it's bloody name)". Now this was a little odd because you could see the station from where we were standing. Have you got how this looks, 2 very tired and dishevelled travellers with full packs and no patience and 1 denim clad idiot with so much grease in his hair that wrestlers were forming an orderly que behind him in order to lube up before their next match.
Then out of the alley way came two more idiots. Short fat idiot and quiet creepy idiot. So now its 2 tired, increasingly grumpy travellers and 3 idiots. The short fat one said he was some sort of police officer, flashed some id and asked to see some id from the two of us and the denim clad idiot. The greasy one took out his wallet and showed him an "id". I happened to be standing very close to the gentleman and he only showed a banckcard, no id. Anybody else smell something fishy? Then he asked for our passports, I suggested to Melissah it was time for us to leave. Melissah on the other hand had decided that she had had enough of people trying to rip us off and steal our shit. She demanded to see the guys ID again. When he showed it she laughed and told him it was fake. Then asked to see the other guy's (the creepy one who said nothing but just stood there the whole time) ID. they said you don't need to see it, Melissah insisted somewhat forcefully that she did need to see it. Short fat one realised that he wasn't going to win this one so they turned and all three of them walked away together talking to each other. Even though she had successfully prevented us getting more shit stolen Melissah had turned, well I like to call it "Volcano red". Not happy that someone had decided we were fair game 3 days after someone else decided we were fair game, unleashed a stream of unlady like words directed at karma, fate and whatever god happened to be listening. I felt happy I wasn't included in the group.
Luckily for Barcelona, this didn't tarnish the time we had there. We stayed in a tiny little hostel, which nightly turned into a very twisted soap opera using all the guests except Melissah and I. While in Barcelona, a dear old friend of Melissah and I (everything else I wrote as an introduction was censored so much that it lost it's funny) Chuck came to meet up with us. Rebecca (as she was christened or so she claims) had the pleasure of following us around for the first day while we decided to replace shit that was stolen, like the camera and ipod. Having Chuck around was like having a child around. No Chuck, you can't touch the policeman. Chuck, get away from those French boys clothes. Don't smell them, Melissah, she wont listen to me make her stop sniffing their underwear (ok so it was shirt but it was still disturbing). So for those of you that think Baiden put mine and Melissah's desire to be parents back a little bit. Chuck pushed them back even further! Once the camera and ipod were purchased the three or four days we were there whizzed along. There were highlights, going to the Nou Camp to watch Barcelona win 4-1, watching a pom throw up into the bin in our dorm, the discreet pleasure in knowing a girl wet her pants while drinking with the poms and all she did was change her pants (no shower) but she thought no one knew. Guess what? We knew!! That was hilarious, if nothing else had happened except for pee girl it would have been worth going for. For those that are asking, it wasn't Chuck. Melissah on the other hand, well you can never trust the quiet ones.
When we put Chuck on the bus to the airport, we made our way to Bilbao. We stayed at a beautiful place on the hill overlooking the city, amazing views, fantastic room, brilliant shower. One of the best places we have stayed except for one small flaw. It's in the middle of no where, it's a good half an hour walk down the hill (if you can find the right path) and going up well its a nightmare. It's designed for those with a vehicle not those of us with a reliance on public transport. Aside from that small issue Bilbao is nice, if only for one reason. Melissah found her sunglasses, same shape, same model, same colour. Why is this a big thing? Well before we left Australia Melissah would have tried on at a low estimate 2000 pairs of glasses and found 1, only 1 pair that she even considered buying. Then they went missing. So what have we done since? Gone into every sunglasses shop looking for that one pair. There was to be no negotiation, that was the only pair that was an acceptable replacement "like for exact" if you will. It was becoming a loosing battle, 35 sunglasses shops not even a hint of the right pair and then lucky number 36, one pair on special, the exact pair. Hallelujah. So Bilbao is remembered for being pretty and saving me another three months of walking into sunglasses shops and hearing "hmpf, they don't have them. Lets go." Make sure you add the sad face with the puppy dog eyes as you read it and then you'll understand!
From Bilbao to the UK. This should actually read from Bilbao to UK passport control (because it's basically a stop over on its own) and then to the UK.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Not Forgiven or Forgotten
It's been a while hasn't it? No updates. Your sitting at home thinking geez, they must really like Milan because they have been there for ages. Well we haven't, we moved on and I haven't told you about it. Did that sting a little? It was meant to. The reason I haven't told you is not because I am fundamentally lazy and have an innaiint ability not to finish anything I start but because you cheated on me.
That's right I've caught you all out. Don't play coy with me, you know how you cheated on me. Facebook. Did you think I wouldn't find out? I expected more from you. Maybe some patience, but NO you don't get an update in a couple of days and it's onto Facebook to check on Mel's page. You do it once or twice and then soon enough this page is like your safety partner. You know that person who you don't really like but in the middle of a dry spell it's better than nothing. Well that's how it is. Now all you do is check Facebook, look at the pictures and then one day when you can't get onto Youtube (it still exists not that you would know because you're wasting so much time on Facebook) you'll come here looking for entertainment. I hope when you eventually read this (say Jan 2008 when social networking sites are banned in the workplace) you'll feel dirty.
That's how it is and that is how I was going to leave it. A dirty note on the bedside table saying I know you cheated, I am leaving with the cat and the hibiscus to stay at my parents for a while, hopefully you do the right thing and leave while I'm gone. (When I get a metaphor I really like to work it, sometimes so much so i back myself into a corner and can't get out of it!) But here's the thing, it's my birthday in a couple of days and instead of "growing up and getting over myself" as Melissah has suggested, I am just going to accept your apology and will forgive you at a later date when you make it up to me fully or never forgive you and use it as leverage to win every argument we have in the future. That is until you do something worse and I can use that. Here endeth the metaphor, normal blogging continues below.
So we just left Romania, there's been a few places between Milan and here but I thought I should mention one of my favourite activities before we move on. We left Romania for good and we had an odd amount of Lei left in our possession, enough Lei to not want to carry it around but not nearly enough to exchange for the next currency. So what do you do? Well I go to the nearest snack shop and spend as much as I can on useless local food. Melissah got a pack of cheesy puffs that weren't so cheesy and I got probably the greatest snack food on the planet. It is up there to rival BBQ Shapes for my favourite snack of all time. A bag of bruschetta type bread flavoured with garlic. Oh Happy Days. These are the adventures you have when spending the last of your currency. (I wouldn't do this with the pound though, I would return home with 10 quid and try and buy Tasmania.) Before Romania there was Italy, in fact much before Romania there was Italy. I've written about Milan haven't I ? (Shows how long this has been! Shame on you!). (Mels note: actually I wrote about Milan, which makes it a good 2 months since Al wrote anything!!) Well after Milan we went to
Florence
Then Rome
then Naples
then back to Florence
...then we left Italy. Simple really. I could catch this blog up by just listing places and linking the albums. But I am not going to make it easy on you. I don't think I've ever made it easy for you. I want to tell you about all the things we did in Italy, about the food and the COFFEE. About the queues to get in everywhere, the disappointment of most art and the pleasure at seeing people removed from a room because they took a photo when they weren't supposed to (a bonus for those of us that follow the rules!). Unfortunately due to the fact I am connected to the internet while I am writing makes it hard to tell you about all the things I liked because I happen to be reading about the upcoming Federal Election at home and it reminds me of the things I don't like.. For example (this list could be quite long)
I was going to tell you all about Rome and how I saw the Pope, but he just reminds me about John and his Letters to the Exclusive Brethren (sounds like a book of the New Testament) and our very own moral crusaders Family (def. - A Man and woman legally married not any other combination i.e. Man and Man, Woman and Woman, Man and Donkey) First. Or how I saw the leaning tower of Pisa but it just reminded me of a massive penis and it takes no stretch as to what ironically named group of people (you could call them a Party even) it reminded me of. As an apolitical side Pisa drove me nuts. Why what could possibly make you angry in Pisa? Stupid people pretending to hold the bloody thing up or push it over. What an annoying bunch of wankers they were (also reminded me of the Ironically Named Party). Seriously though have you ever seen anything more stupid than a bus load of tourists standing 50m in front of a tower (that should have been ripped down) pretending to hold it up? It's not funny, I don't want to see your photos. Do you know when it was funny? Once when someone 100 years ago took a box brownie camera to Pisa and had some bird with a parasol pretend to hold it up. Why was it funny then? Because it was original. I'll say this once and in capitals "YOU ARE NOT FUNNY. IT IS NOT ORIGINAL. NO ONE WNATS TO SEE IT". Cop that bitches. We went to Florence which was brilliant but every second person was American which wasn't so bad then but thinking back now it just reminds me of one person (you can see how this going to play out can't you). I have more references but in this day and age (what with my popularity and all) with media monitors and the likes I probably cant print them. Some of you are thinking thank God, some of you are disappointed and the rest of you are trying to work out whether I just ran out of segues. Looking at our journey through Italy it does parallel a series of events quite well, children overboard, interest rate rises, AWA's, War in Iraq, my foot blowing up to the size of my thigh and the withholding of information to the press. Quite an impressive resume to have for just three weeks through Italy.
Avignon comes next, we travelled 14 hours from Florence to Avignon and from there it was to be a relatively simple journey to Barcelona. Unfortunately as it is with all travel things are not that simple. We have no photographs of Avignon or Pompeii or Naples. You must be wondering why? Why? Well because some fucker (I have toned this language down somewhat but cannot bring myself to censor it completely) stole one of our day packs with the camera in it. Thus when we arrived in Avignon we had lost Melissah's purse, ipod, reading glasses, sunglasses, camera, postcards (written with stamps)) and documents (not important ones but still copies of our passport, insurance and suite measurements. you know inside pant length and the likes). But worse than all of that we had to rely on the French to help us. This didn't start so bad (but deteriorated quickly), the French policeman who helped us to file a report was helpful and sympathetic and nice. He learnt English 30 years ago, but tried his heart out even went as far as to point at different colour binders on his shelf to get the right colours. He tried and he didn't make us feel like we were ignorant tourists. We almost had a little hope, until he said in flat English "Your bag. It will NOT turn up". Way to crush that optimism. Aside from that we left there thinking this isn't going to be so bad. We are going to get through this nicely. We had been told that sometimes bags can get left on the trains by those who take them (without the valuable stuff in them obviously) so we should contact lost and found in Paris to see if anything had turned up (mainly Mel's reading glasses, I mean what are the chances of a thief knowing someone with same wonky eyes as Melissah). Easy enough, we asked the man at the train station (with the I speak English badge on) can he contact lost and found. The simple answer (and only English word and it wasn't even English was) "No". So we rang ourselves, there was an answering machine with a message. Undestanbly it was in French, so we went to another worker at the train station. Could he tell us what the message says, we don't speak French. His response was not "Sure, I am here to help as it says in my job description to provide assistance to paying customers of French rail" as would be normal. His response was "You are in France we speak French" . Still doesn't tell me what's on the answering machine dickhead. At this point I have decided to learn French fluently in the vein hope that when I am back in Australia someone asks me for help in French and I clearly understand what they want I can say "You are in Australia, learn to speak English" and walk away knowing that I have exacted my revenge. When we finally worked out what was happening instead of that nice easy train ride to Spain from Avignon it was Spain via Paris. Look on a map it's not ideal.
As a note, the postcards turned up. The thief posted them. Didn't send the memory stick with the photos on it though.
That's right I've caught you all out. Don't play coy with me, you know how you cheated on me. Facebook. Did you think I wouldn't find out? I expected more from you. Maybe some patience, but NO you don't get an update in a couple of days and it's onto Facebook to check on Mel's page. You do it once or twice and then soon enough this page is like your safety partner. You know that person who you don't really like but in the middle of a dry spell it's better than nothing. Well that's how it is. Now all you do is check Facebook, look at the pictures and then one day when you can't get onto Youtube (it still exists not that you would know because you're wasting so much time on Facebook) you'll come here looking for entertainment. I hope when you eventually read this (say Jan 2008 when social networking sites are banned in the workplace) you'll feel dirty.
That's how it is and that is how I was going to leave it. A dirty note on the bedside table saying I know you cheated, I am leaving with the cat and the hibiscus to stay at my parents for a while, hopefully you do the right thing and leave while I'm gone. (When I get a metaphor I really like to work it, sometimes so much so i back myself into a corner and can't get out of it!) But here's the thing, it's my birthday in a couple of days and instead of "growing up and getting over myself" as Melissah has suggested, I am just going to accept your apology and will forgive you at a later date when you make it up to me fully or never forgive you and use it as leverage to win every argument we have in the future. That is until you do something worse and I can use that. Here endeth the metaphor, normal blogging continues below.
So we just left Romania, there's been a few places between Milan and here but I thought I should mention one of my favourite activities before we move on. We left Romania for good and we had an odd amount of Lei left in our possession, enough Lei to not want to carry it around but not nearly enough to exchange for the next currency. So what do you do? Well I go to the nearest snack shop and spend as much as I can on useless local food. Melissah got a pack of cheesy puffs that weren't so cheesy and I got probably the greatest snack food on the planet. It is up there to rival BBQ Shapes for my favourite snack of all time. A bag of bruschetta type bread flavoured with garlic. Oh Happy Days. These are the adventures you have when spending the last of your currency. (I wouldn't do this with the pound though, I would return home with 10 quid and try and buy Tasmania.) Before Romania there was Italy, in fact much before Romania there was Italy. I've written about Milan haven't I ? (Shows how long this has been! Shame on you!). (Mels note: actually I wrote about Milan, which makes it a good 2 months since Al wrote anything!!) Well after Milan we went to
Florence
 |
| Florence - Otherwise known as Davids House |
Then Rome
 |
| Roma - Nero Fiddled while Rome was built in a day.. |
then Naples
PICTURE MISSING
then back to Florence
|
| Florence - Otherwise known as Davids House |
...then we left Italy. Simple really. I could catch this blog up by just listing places and linking the albums. But I am not going to make it easy on you. I don't think I've ever made it easy for you. I want to tell you about all the things we did in Italy, about the food and the COFFEE. About the queues to get in everywhere, the disappointment of most art and the pleasure at seeing people removed from a room because they took a photo when they weren't supposed to (a bonus for those of us that follow the rules!). Unfortunately due to the fact I am connected to the internet while I am writing makes it hard to tell you about all the things I liked because I happen to be reading about the upcoming Federal Election at home and it reminds me of the things I don't like.. For example (this list could be quite long)
I was going to tell you all about Rome and how I saw the Pope, but he just reminds me about John and his Letters to the Exclusive Brethren (sounds like a book of the New Testament) and our very own moral crusaders Family (def. - A Man and woman legally married not any other combination i.e. Man and Man, Woman and Woman, Man and Donkey) First. Or how I saw the leaning tower of Pisa but it just reminded me of a massive penis and it takes no stretch as to what ironically named group of people (you could call them a Party even) it reminded me of. As an apolitical side Pisa drove me nuts. Why what could possibly make you angry in Pisa? Stupid people pretending to hold the bloody thing up or push it over. What an annoying bunch of wankers they were (also reminded me of the Ironically Named Party). Seriously though have you ever seen anything more stupid than a bus load of tourists standing 50m in front of a tower (that should have been ripped down) pretending to hold it up? It's not funny, I don't want to see your photos. Do you know when it was funny? Once when someone 100 years ago took a box brownie camera to Pisa and had some bird with a parasol pretend to hold it up. Why was it funny then? Because it was original. I'll say this once and in capitals "YOU ARE NOT FUNNY. IT IS NOT ORIGINAL. NO ONE WNATS TO SEE IT". Cop that bitches. We went to Florence which was brilliant but every second person was American which wasn't so bad then but thinking back now it just reminds me of one person (you can see how this going to play out can't you). I have more references but in this day and age (what with my popularity and all) with media monitors and the likes I probably cant print them. Some of you are thinking thank God, some of you are disappointed and the rest of you are trying to work out whether I just ran out of segues. Looking at our journey through Italy it does parallel a series of events quite well, children overboard, interest rate rises, AWA's, War in Iraq, my foot blowing up to the size of my thigh and the withholding of information to the press. Quite an impressive resume to have for just three weeks through Italy.
Avignon comes next, we travelled 14 hours from Florence to Avignon and from there it was to be a relatively simple journey to Barcelona. Unfortunately as it is with all travel things are not that simple. We have no photographs of Avignon or Pompeii or Naples. You must be wondering why? Why? Well because some fucker (I have toned this language down somewhat but cannot bring myself to censor it completely) stole one of our day packs with the camera in it. Thus when we arrived in Avignon we had lost Melissah's purse, ipod, reading glasses, sunglasses, camera, postcards (written with stamps)) and documents (not important ones but still copies of our passport, insurance and suite measurements. you know inside pant length and the likes). But worse than all of that we had to rely on the French to help us. This didn't start so bad (but deteriorated quickly), the French policeman who helped us to file a report was helpful and sympathetic and nice. He learnt English 30 years ago, but tried his heart out even went as far as to point at different colour binders on his shelf to get the right colours. He tried and he didn't make us feel like we were ignorant tourists. We almost had a little hope, until he said in flat English "Your bag. It will NOT turn up". Way to crush that optimism. Aside from that we left there thinking this isn't going to be so bad. We are going to get through this nicely. We had been told that sometimes bags can get left on the trains by those who take them (without the valuable stuff in them obviously) so we should contact lost and found in Paris to see if anything had turned up (mainly Mel's reading glasses, I mean what are the chances of a thief knowing someone with same wonky eyes as Melissah). Easy enough, we asked the man at the train station (with the I speak English badge on) can he contact lost and found. The simple answer (and only English word and it wasn't even English was) "No". So we rang ourselves, there was an answering machine with a message. Undestanbly it was in French, so we went to another worker at the train station. Could he tell us what the message says, we don't speak French. His response was not "Sure, I am here to help as it says in my job description to provide assistance to paying customers of French rail" as would be normal. His response was "You are in France we speak French" . Still doesn't tell me what's on the answering machine dickhead. At this point I have decided to learn French fluently in the vein hope that when I am back in Australia someone asks me for help in French and I clearly understand what they want I can say "You are in Australia, learn to speak English" and walk away knowing that I have exacted my revenge. When we finally worked out what was happening instead of that nice easy train ride to Spain from Avignon it was Spain via Paris. Look on a map it's not ideal.
As a note, the postcards turned up. The thief posted them. Didn't send the memory stick with the photos on it though.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Shopping paradise!
If you enjoy shopping like me, Milan is definitely somewhere you want to head with a purse full of money ... if, like Allan, shopping isn't your thing ... personally I wouldn't waste my time or money with a trip to Milan.
We only booked a couple of nights in Milan, because the cheapest place we could find to stay was double our nightly budget. Milan doesn't do backpackers or hostels, I don't think they want backpackers there wasting space. Or maybe it's just that back packers simply can't afford to go to Milan ... either way, we almost spent our weeks budget in the 2 days we were there!
There weren't too many sights to see in Milan, there is the big church with its 5000 spires and something like 7000 statues. We paparazzied the church and then moved on to shopping. While we were shopping, we found a few statues that looked like they were made out of chocolate and I think are characters from a cartoon or something, they kept Al amused while I darted in and out of the shops!!
Personally I didn't mind our time in Milan, I was well overdue for some shopping, even if it was mainly window shopping. I window shopped in all of the big designer stores ... more because I simply can not understand how anyone could waste so much money on clothing and accessories. I think they should go to Africa for a holiday and see if they can work out where their money is better spent .. anyhow, not going to do an Allan rant, just thought it was worth mentioning. I did however do some shopping in what is known as the "golden quarter", which is mainly big designers and a few chain stores ... I found a store that just sold ladies shirts ... Literally there were maybe 15 different types of shirts, I went in and pointed out the two that I liked, they bought back the size and colour that they thought and I thought I was in paradise :) Not only was someone fussing over me to find me what I wanted, but I was also in a shop that only sold business shirts for ladies ... I have been saying for a very long time that stores like this should exist, would make shopping for work clothes so much easier .. and it turns out that they do!! Now all I need to do is find a store that only sells women's suits and i'll be a happy chappy!! At the time of purchasing my shirts right next to the Luis Vuton, Gucci and Prada stores I thought I'd walked into a designer store, but as we walked down the block and past 3 more of these stores, I'm pretty certain that it was more than likely a chain store across Europe, but hey, it made me feel good at the time!!
Bored out of our brains, we got an early train the next day to Florence ...
We only booked a couple of nights in Milan, because the cheapest place we could find to stay was double our nightly budget. Milan doesn't do backpackers or hostels, I don't think they want backpackers there wasting space. Or maybe it's just that back packers simply can't afford to go to Milan ... either way, we almost spent our weeks budget in the 2 days we were there!
There weren't too many sights to see in Milan, there is the big church with its 5000 spires and something like 7000 statues. We paparazzied the church and then moved on to shopping. While we were shopping, we found a few statues that looked like they were made out of chocolate and I think are characters from a cartoon or something, they kept Al amused while I darted in and out of the shops!!
Personally I didn't mind our time in Milan, I was well overdue for some shopping, even if it was mainly window shopping. I window shopped in all of the big designer stores ... more because I simply can not understand how anyone could waste so much money on clothing and accessories. I think they should go to Africa for a holiday and see if they can work out where their money is better spent .. anyhow, not going to do an Allan rant, just thought it was worth mentioning. I did however do some shopping in what is known as the "golden quarter", which is mainly big designers and a few chain stores ... I found a store that just sold ladies shirts ... Literally there were maybe 15 different types of shirts, I went in and pointed out the two that I liked, they bought back the size and colour that they thought and I thought I was in paradise :) Not only was someone fussing over me to find me what I wanted, but I was also in a shop that only sold business shirts for ladies ... I have been saying for a very long time that stores like this should exist, would make shopping for work clothes so much easier .. and it turns out that they do!! Now all I need to do is find a store that only sells women's suits and i'll be a happy chappy!! At the time of purchasing my shirts right next to the Luis Vuton, Gucci and Prada stores I thought I'd walked into a designer store, but as we walked down the block and past 3 more of these stores, I'm pretty certain that it was more than likely a chain store across Europe, but hey, it made me feel good at the time!!
Bored out of our brains, we got an early train the next day to Florence ...
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