7.11.05

I have heard of these 5 Italian towns ever since my first arrival in Europe. The crazy Canadian couple who stayed in the same hostel as myself in "The Flying Pig" in Amsterdam had ranted and raved about how magnificent the views were and their only negative comment was the size of the crowd flocking into the normally quiet Italian villages strategically located by the Mediterranean sea, simply to sample a taste of non-complicated Italian life by the sea. Most would leave disappointed.

Luckilly for me, by the time Gheri and I arrived at the first of the five quaint towns, the summer crowd were all but gone while the beautiful warm and sunny autumn weather lingered. As we only planned to make this one a day trip, little time were to be wasted as we started off exploring through the first town.

The first thing that struck me about this Italian seaside town is that every building is painted a different colour to its next door neighbours. The result of this was a kaleidescope of multi-coloured basic but sturdy brick and tile buildings laid clustered together, providing a constrast to the dramatic black cliff rock and cerulean blue sea backdrop that makes both the town and its surroundings such a gorgeous masterpiece of landscape painting on this Italian canvas.

As we make our descent from the top of the hill, and walking through the village towards the sea where the walking track starts from linking this first village to the next, we were greeted by shy smiling children and their more friendly looking parents as they go about their business benovelently playing along with our poor attempt to assimilate into their daily lives as if we too belong there.

In a way, it was very reassuring to see that the Italian village was exactly how I would have pictured them from watching movies depicting seaside Italian lives...Clothes line hanging overhead while you walk through the small alleys, old bicycles and scooters parked or rested against the side walls of the houses, small local shops with colorful hand painted signs appearing alongside residential houses with flip flops and japanese rubber slippers outside the front door, that sort of stuff. As I have gathered by now, despite the thousands of Japanese tourists that flooded such destinations, I discovered that the Italians are facinated by the eastern tourists, regardless of their origin or the fact that they're now more of a kiwi/westerner in atittude and dressing. The Italian men were of course indulgent and courteous (read rudely flitatious) in trying to involve me in a chit chat, much to Gheri's displeasure who murmured something that sounded very much like 'fanculo' (f*** off)whenever he thought I wasn't noticing.

We were told at the start of the walking track in the Tourist office that due to the torrential rain that hit the coastal area a few days prior to our arrival, we would only be able to walk from village 1 to village 2, then have to catch a train to village 3, and if we like, walk to village 4 before catching a train to village 5. While we were originally intending to walk the entire track to village 5, we thought perhaps this alternate walking and train riding might be a blessing in disguise, offering us a chance to see the towns from two different perspectives.

With the backdrop of beautiful blue sky, we set off, leaving behind the first town. The track was easy enough, about a metre wide concrete path hugging the cliff of the rocky mountain.

Standing by the safety rail on the way from village 1 to 2.

As we walked, it was really hard not to notice how blue the Mediterranean sea was with the gorgeous cloudless sky provide little resistance or the sun to intensify the blue reflection of the sea, making it really a pleasant walk.

When we got to the second village, the buildings, houses were not that too dissimilar to the ones at the first village but the position of the houses were somewhat more dramatic in the second village, in that they were closer to the water and perched up high above the cliff. See picture below:

Fantastic ain't it?!

Against such backdrop, we popped into the local deli where a friendly Croat who migrated to this village years ago served us the most delicious home made sandwiches this side of western Italy! Fresh bread, meat, olives and cheese...Bellisimo!!

We then caught the train to the 3rd village which I must say was perhaps the least colourful of the 5 villages in terms of the houses or the natural view. Perhaps it could also be due to the fact that this is a 'working' village in that there's lots of olive estates surrounding the village and also small wineries around. As the day was starting to get later and later and we were worried we might run out of time, we quickly walked through the jungle track to reach the 4th village.

When we emerged through to the 4th village, poor Gheri was covered with pine needles all over his track pants. I was too busy to notice as I was gobsmacked by the beautiful sight that greeted me. This gorgeous settlement proved to be different to the other three villages in that there was a large military fort complete with a watch tower and lighthouse built around the 18th century. This village was also a fishing village. We didn't hang around long though, having to catch the 2nd last train to the last of the 5 villages.

Military fort at the 4th village

Of all the local small towns, the 5th village is the only one that boasted of having a decent beach that would be tempting to locals and tourists alike after a hot summer day. It was almost 8pm, the sun was departing..but that didn't stop a bunch of young American (but of course) tourists giggling and squealing all the way during the train ride. You just knew that you're in for a bit of entertainment and the yankees did not disappoint!

As soon as the train came to a halt outside the local train station which was just opposite the beach, the Americans poured out and raced one another to the beach. The girls couldn't take their tops off quick enough before running into the water in their bikinis to the delight most of the local men, their delight only marred by the pain of being swiped at with their wives' handbags.

Beach front Italian village..ooh la la..

It was indeed a beautiful trip..we missed the train we wanted to catch. Gheri was really annoyed thinking it was the last one, but luckilly like many a time before, he was wrong!!! We did manage to catch the next one that took us all the way back to the first village and luckilly for us, our car was still where we parked it. As we had made a booking for a place to stay in Florence, we had to make our way there, 1.5 hours drive away. What an awesome day though spent in Italy's lil treasure paradise..all 5 of them!

View of the sunset (and the moon) from the shore at the 5th village..

AO Rating: Wonderful place to visit definitely but definitely not a place to easily occupy yourself for too long so perhaps a day or two would be ideal and sufficient to enjoy this coastal delight.

Cinque Terres (5 Small Towns) remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

As I sat in the train on my way to Milan from Venice, I realised that there were only 25 days left before the curtain would come down on my European Adventure. It is hard to believe that time has flown so quickly. The radio announcement interrupted my ponderings as I realised Milan was approaching. A city of 1.3 million people, Milan is the financial and fashion capital of Italy. I found it rather disheartening to see Lonely Planet describing it as "surprisingly scruffy city offering the best in Italian clothes, theatre and nightlife - and not a lot else."

Luckilly for me, my visit here had less to do with the sightseeing of the city, and more to do with catching up with one of its inhabitants, my friend Gheri (whom I first met in Bratislava). Gheri, a fellow badminton enthusiasts, had somehow managed to organise a game of competitive badminton for me, playing for a club of Milan vs another club from Genoa. So the plan was to meet up with Gheri and we would then travel to Genoa, south of Milan for the game before making our way south to Cinque Terre (the 5 terraces) and Florence.

After a few frustrating text 'tagging', Gheri and I managed to find one another at the busy train station. We went into the heart of the city to eat lunch and Gheri said he would like to show me around and so I told him how Lonely Planet advised that I shouldn't bother unless I'm going shopping. He must have taken personal offence to his city being described that way as General Gheri rushed us through lunch and then dragged me to see what he described as the best duomo ("cathedral") this side of Europe. I must admit, I didn't take him too seriously with that boast as I was sure Lonely Planet would definitely not leave out such important information. It mentioned a duomo, but simply that it was commissioned in 1386 to a lunatic French Gothic design and finished 600 years later. Didn't seem hardly that interesting. This was...until I came face to face with it..

Never since the Sigrada Familia had a church made me drop my jaw that wide as when I saw this cathedral. This was only one side of the building and it is incredibly gothic in design. The uniquely designed church with its high spires and finely detailed gilding walls were rather impressive. In terms of the size, it would certainly be bigger than Notre Dame or the West Minister Abbey, and in area size, you could easily fit in 2 rugby fields.

Ok, Gheri 1, Lonely Planet 0. As we made our way into the church to have a look around, Gheri pointed to a print of Da Vinci's masterpiece, "The Last Supper" and asking me whether did my Lonely Planet (could have sworn he snorted as he said the name) mention that while this was a print, the original of this amazing painting is also housed in Milan. After a quick flick through the book, I was tempted to use it to swipe that gloating look off his face..*sigh* Gheri 2, Lonely Planet 0.

After the church, we made our way towards this huge indoor shopping centre. Perhaps to illustrate that Lonely Planet wasn't totally wrong, Gheri pointed out that this centre hosts all the famous designer clothing store and sure enough, Gucci, Giorgio Armani and Valentino gold lettered signs appear on both sides as we walked through the busy arcade. McDonalds further confirmed that it does have a store everywhere. It was rather disturbing in order to keep up with the 'chic' style of the shopping centre where the letters forming the outlets' names are gold with the background being black, McDonalds looked so upmarket suddenly with this design. Location, location, location!

The massive and impressive shopping centre!

We walked around the main square too and visited a few more places (thankfully mentioned in LP) before heading home to have dinner with Gheri's parents (whom he was living with). Nothing eventful to report except to point this out to you guys. Everywhere in France, Italy and Spain, it is very common for the bathrooms to also include the toilets. However, the first time I walked into one, I was perplexed to see two toilets in one bathroom. I was like ok...so some people like company while they do their no.2's...I was later advised by my French friend, Ralphy that the "Bede" is not really a toilet, but it's for err..*blush* women to wash themselves (the French's chic-ness knows no boundaries). I couldn't resist but take a picture to show you what they look like:

I wonder if NZ would ever catch on to this..Think of it like a bird bath...

6th November 2005

We started nice and early for our drive to Genoa (or pronounced Genova here by the locals). The ride was uneventful as we were simply on the motorway most of the time. Two hours later, we arrived at the badminton hall and I felt good during the warm up but it was very apparent to me as the games went on that I have lost a lot of my court fitness and leg strength. It didn't take long before my calves scream in pain with each movement and my arms tiring fast. So all in all, I didn't play too particularly well but I did have lots of fun. Gheri was happy to play paparazzi for the day.

Everyone there was really friendly and I learnt a few terms in Italian that we normally use badminton like "Alle!" (Go!), "Bella" (good shot) and Andiarmo!! (equivallent to Leyton Hewitt's COME ON!!!)

Started off really well...

Thanks Gheri for making me look better than how I actually played!

After the games and a much needed shower, Gheri and I headed off for a mini sightseeing of Genova, a port city of Italy. The most interesting feature for me are how there's lots of 'striped' buildings, including churches. Gheri advised that this was common of old buildings in northern Italy.

The main church in the heart of the town in 'striped' design.

The justice building at the main square of Genova.

It was a nice way to unwind and we checked in at the local youth hostel for what I anticipated to be another uneventful evening of resting before making our way to Cinque Terres tomorrow. However, desitiny had other plans for us.

While checking in, there was this crew cut blonde haired guy who looked a bit rough on the edges who was waiting behind us to also check in. I didn't like the way he was looking at me but by now, have learnt to ignore these kinds of attention. Anyhow, after we settled in, we were just hanging out chatting what we're going to do tomorrow when this guy that we saw earlier at the reception knocked on our door and asked us what floor is his room on..of course, he has the key that's something like 204 which of course meant that he was on the 2nd floor so I didn't particularly think his request for help was genuine. Anyhow, he ended up hanging around and chatting to us. He couldn't speak much English but he could speak Italian and pretty much he was chatting to Gheri but he kept looking over at me, as if to size me up..and I felt like a well chopped piece of meat sitting on a scale being measured by worth..that was how it felt like. It became clear very quickly to us that he was on his own and was looking for some 'fun'. He was quick to point out that he was a stripper and I think if we even gave him the slightest encouragement, he would be on his feet right away taking his gear off! It took us a good 2 hours of strongly hinting that we're not keen to go out (and I had to personally say no like 5 times!)before he finally made his departure and left us in peace.

The rest of evening luckilly went by more sedately. From our room, we got this amazing view of the city as you can see from the pictures below. I made sure I took a picture in the morning before we depart for Cinque Terres.b

The cerulean blue sea hugging the coast of Genova. Bella vista! (Beautiful view)

AO Rating: Milan's visit was brief and besides the Cathedral, I think Lonely Planet was quite on the mark about the place and unfortunately Milan wasn't as attractive to me due to not being within the realms of purpose of my visit, i.e historical sightseeing. As for Genova, it was more a brief stop to confirm that I have indeed got my work cut out for me when I go back to NZ in terms of getting back into shape for the next badminton season. The night with the stripper was exactly interesting to say the least. Little did I know then that this was not my last encounter of the stripping kind...So I guess my overall impression of Genova? Stripes and Strips! :-P

Northern Italy escapade.. remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Due to the thick fog and mist covering Venice (ok, who blew it this way from Wellington?!!), our flight was delayed so that by the time I set foot outside Aeroporto Marco Polo, the fog has thickened and in the process, trapped the cold air underneathe it. I shivered slightly and zipped up my Snowgum polar fleece jacket as I made my way to the bus stop. This was my first taste of European winter as until only few hours ago, I was basking in the balmy warmth of the Mediterranean sun in southern Spain.

Well, the good news so far is that my 'camping ground' is situated only like 10 minutes bus ride from the airport and it is superly cheap accomodation (bunk to myself for 20 Euros). Bad news though is that I'm not sure what quality of accomodation I'll be getting from this 'camping ground' and that it's a 30 minutes bus ride into the town centre. Oh well, the price one would pay (or not pay as this case may be) in order to keep one's visit to one of Italy's most expensive cities under one's budget! It was also funny how there's all these vast amount of travelling on land between places. You see, I have this picture that Venice is totally a floating city with canals everywhere and you will never see a single road or motor vehicle. I guess that was a bit unrealistic huh?

Anyhow, I sighed with great relief upon walking into my 'cabin'. It was very basic, but very clean, tidy and equipped with an 'ensuite' shower and toilet. It even had a heating system, excellent! One settling in, my tummy's grumbling reminded me that it's dinner time and since it was quite late and we're kinda out in the middle of nowhere, the only feasible place to go eat would be the camping ground's in-house restaurant. As you would guess, I approached this place with the trepidition of noting what the price of the meals would be, after all, with nowhere else to go, these guys got you by the throat (or tummy for that matter) and plus being such an expensive city. As I opened the menu, I was prepared that perhaps all I could afford was a bowl of soup and some bread but once again, pleasantly surprised to see most meals were "non motto costoza" (meaning not too expensive). I ordered spaghetti carbonara and just some tap water (Backpacker's meal 101). The waiter was terribly helpful and polite and another fear began to grip me. Oh darn it, I forgot to check whether I was suppose to tip the waiters in this country or not! You see, according to the Lonely Planet guide, not only is tipping inappropriate in certain circumstances, but it could be considered an insult. Like in Prague for example, to show appreciation, you mainly just complimented the cooking and leave it like that. What do I do in Italy? Luckily, I had a cunning plan. There were few other international diners and I decided I would take my cue from them (gosh, I hope they weren't planning to stay there all night!).

When my spaghetti arrived, I was kinda stunned. Visually, it looked like a plate of thin spaghetti with lots of light yellow sprinkles of what I suspect to be eggs and of course, finely grated Mozarella cheese. That was it...no bacon, no other veggies or any other ingredients. Then I remembered hearing my Italian friend Gheri mentioning before that in Italy, where of course Pasta and Pizza "apparently" originates from (don't even get me started on that argument), the locals keep it very very simple in terms of the ingredients, unlike the pastas and pizzas that migrated across to other parts of the world where the preparation and presentation were somewhat more elaborate and complex. Shrugging my shoulders, I dug in and from the first twirl of spaghetti on my fork right to the last ones, I practically didn't stop...they were superbly delicious! I suddenly felt self conscious of appearing like a silent human vacuum cleaner instead of a worldly Chiwi (chinese kiwi of course!) traveller. Of course, after sucking down my dinner so quickly, I suddenly realised I had to painfully sip on my tap water while waiting to see what other diners would do and eventually, I learnt that you do not tip in Venice (not necessarily the same all across Italy). Pheew, just as well, otherwise I wouldn't have had quite enough with me to not appear like Miss Scrooge.

I had quite a nice pleasant walk back to my cabin..noticing the rest of the campground. It was a well set up place, with trailers, tents and cabins spread out across a well kept couple of acres of park ground. After sharing a dorm room with 3 others in Barcelona, Venice cabin seemed like a heavenly upgrade.

4 November 2005

Originally, I planned to spend at least 2 days in Venice but due to the drama of missing the train in Barcelona, I decided to cut my visit short which meant that I only had one day to see all of Venice and what a day it was going to be. So I rose nice and early and headed off to wait for the bus. At the bus stop, I found two girls also on the same mission, Aussie Sara and a Canadian girl whom for the world of me, I cannot remember her name! Anyhow, we struck up a conversation which turned out to be a laugh fest as we regaled to one another our travel stories. Sarah for one, was the most fluent in Italian of us 3 as she studied it in High school. She warned us to be very careful when we request for "gondola" rides and to pronounce it clearly so as not to accidentally have it sounding like "funcola" which literally translates to the not so nice version of "piss off". We arrived at the main centre which also happened to be the Train station. Although sharing different travel guide books with different opinions on what one ought to do first in each city of interest, this time, the books were in unison in recommending that we catch the no.1 water taxi that would take us pretty much from the beginning of Canal Grande (nope, not Grand Canal, but rather Big Canal) which incidentally is shaped like the letter "S" and it would take us right to the end of the main canal route, which we would then get off and be directly at St Mark's Square (or as I've found the Italian name so commonly referred to in my audio Italian lesson, Piazza San Marco). So after buying our tickets, we all hopped on the very quickly crowded water taxi. I was lucky I was able to wriggle my way through the crowd and onto the prime position on the outside deck where I could click away happily on the camera.

As you will see on the photos taken from this taxi, the day was unfortunately rather misty and cooly damp, giving the city a feel of an English moorland or if you're an American, think a really cold New Orleans day at the swamps. Perhaps it was this hazy atmosphere that prevented me to fully appreciate the romanticism that is often linked with this city but once a while as the taxi glides through the water and the sun was able to sneak one of its rays through the thick dark mist, you would catch a glimpse of the light against the water and some of the old buildings, illuminating both the romantically hidden and the authentically pleasant..

Standing in ront of Chlesa di San Simeone Piccolo.

Gondola driver on his way to work. The gondola as you can see is narrow, made of fine wood with its head finely carved in the manner that is uniformed to most of the gondolas servicing the canals of Venice. The water taxi on the other hand are simply like small ferry boats, made of steel and not terribly exciting unfortunately.

And this is of course the gondola station. As you can see, it was indeed a misty and foggy day.

It was facinating seeing houses, offices and markets existing alongside one another in an unplanned manner, unplanned in the sense that unlike other European cities, Venice's infrastructure and city planning is governed more by the locations of the canals and the requirement of housing, offices etc as it arises as opposed to being structured like any old European city, which often started off with a small nucleus and then slowly expanding outwards. As the taxi pulls to the station at Piazza San Marco, I concluded that perhaps the buildings I saw on my way down this canal were certainly old, depleted and certainly looking like no upgrade, new paint or renovation were to be carried out, perhaps signifying the inhabitants resignment to their city's unfortunate dire future, thus confirming what we have all suspected all this time, that city of Venice is sinking and sinking quick.

Shaking the cold damp air off my shoulder together with any nonchalant thoughts that lingered like the mist over the water, I climbed out towards the Piazza San Marco to be greeted by hundreds of people walking around the square. It was not so much the large crowd that surprised me but rather the sighting of various groups of men in different kinds of uniforms either walking around, having breakfast in one of the many cafes located nearby or simply standing in some sort of formation as if practising a march. I learnt later from one of the helpful cafe owners that today was Italy's Republic day (the day Italy became a republic instead of being under the sovereign empire of Rome (and Hungary) ). A parade was to be held in honour of this day at the square. I stood for a while rejoicing in my good sense of timing and waiting for the parade to take place. After a few minutes and noticing that the wait could be longer than "a while", I decided instead to continue my sightseeing of the square and the historical Basilica San Marco which of course houses the tomb of Apostle Mark. The church, with its spangled spires, byzantine domes and seething facade of mosaics and marbles was built in the 11th century.

The Basilica San Marco from the outside. Very impressive building.
The parade would later take place with Italy's forces, army, navy, police, air force and its "caribeneri" (like military police) would converge facing the Basilica.

The parade was rather boring no thanks to the many speeches been given and funny how you don't even need to understand the language to know it was boring :-( Remembering that I had so little time and so much to see, I left the square and made my way to the famous "Ponte dei Sospiri" or Bridge of Sighs which connect the Palazzo Ducale (residence of the doges) and the old prisons. The bridge evoked romantic images probably because of its association with Casanova, a native of Venice who spent some time in the dungeon.

Do you know how hard it was to get a picture in front of this bridge? I had to push a few annoying tourists over the bridge to get a clear view..

Venice is of course famous for its Easter celebration, known as the Carnival where it would go for months with lots of mask parties being thrown and accordingly, it is to be expected that most tourist shops such as this can be found sprinkled all over the place.

If you don't recognise these, they are the highly regarded work of art, the Murano glass, originating of course from the island of Murano in Venice. I would have loved to buy a few as souvenirs for you back home but for the following:
1. Clumsy Adelina;
2. Big turtle shell bag;
3. Lots of packing and unpacking and walking through Europe;
4. All the above put together..

Although not really the famous tower of Pisa, but it was certainly of a similar design. This somewhat smaller model of the infamous building can be found in this city and it was truly a beautiful architecture to admire.

I took a picture of one of the houses by the Canal Grande just to show you how pretty some of the buildings can be but of course their beauty are often heightened by the fact they're surrounded by many old depleted buildings, decaying due to neglect and futility of the sinking city.

A view on some of the smaller canals adjascent to the main ones. I guess you can view them like a 'side street' and accordingly, you have like "vehicles" parked by your house, so this kind of canal scene is typical everywhere in Venice.

Reputed to be Venice's most famous bridge, the Ponte Rialto, one of the first few bridges built in Venice.

Besides the above, I visted many churches, many of them old and majestic but I will save them for later viewing. I have been warned that my budgetary skills will be thoroughly questioned in Venice and I could not agree more! It was rather a challenging ordeal given that you get charged not only for everything, but it is a mistylight robbery! Relieving oneself which often would be free but if not, perhaps the customary 0.50 may be required. In Venice, perhaps they wrongfully concluded that since you're about to create your own "golden arch", you should therefore be charged a good 1 to 2 Euros (that's NZ4 folks) for it. And if you're anything like me, you would almost consider investing in a portable potty.
I was this -->..<-- of launching a mini protest, carrying a loud picket sign which reads "Pee for Free in V!" Oh well..just as well I was only staying one day!

Due to the foggy weather, it was pretty much dark by 4:30pm and while I was sure I could have easily wondered around for another few hours, I was satisfied I was able to experience enough of the city to at least appreciate its beauty on the surface.I made my way back to the camp site, reflecting on the day well spent and silently noting that Venice has proved indeed the perfect host in opening the doors of Italy to me.

AO Rating: Perhaps like many other travellers, I certainly shared the frustration of attempting to navigate my way around this place due to its many canals, roads and bridges all built in a disorganised and ad hoc manner. Nevertheless, venturing boldy through the streets of Venice, sometimes on purpose and other times, by accidental purpose (meaning you didn't want to go there, but glad you did when you stumble across something interesting on that road), you certainly and easily could understand the attraction of this city...with its mysterious and misty air clinging to its ancient walls and piers, the sound of soft rippling waves can be heard as gondolas and water taxis alike glide through its waters. One can only but sigh blissfully as one turns away from yet another dead end street and make another turn right or left, half hoping that this time. this street would lead home, and half wishing that it perhaps will lead to yet another adventure inside the floating city. While I am not crazily in love with the city, I could also understand how others would write sonnets and prcolaim this to be the city of love. Perhaps they were blindfolded by the thick fog of the "Venetian Blind".

Venitian Blinds.. remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Today marked my last day in Barcelona and despite the early morning sunlight streaming through the window of my room, promising yet another glorious sightseeing day, I was not able to shake off this sense of forboding, knowing my love affair with Spain and in particular, this magical city was about to come to an end.

However, rather than wasting good energy on wallowing in self pity, I decided that if I was to leave Barcelona, it should be with a big bang, after all, no other city in Spain had been able to get under my skin the way Barcelona had, with its slow persuasive and seductive dance of life, mesmerising you and drawing you into its cocoon before transforming and releasing you back into the world as a multi coloured butterfly complete with the sense of awe, amazement and total enchantment.

I decided the best way to pay tribute to this wonderful city was to continue my delectable exploration of the city and to absorb as much as it has to offer. Here is a visual tour on some of the highlights:

First port of call, The castle on top of the Montjuic mountain, buil strategically overlooking the city during the period when Iberians and the Cantalans governed over Barcelona.

Directly facing the Montjuic castle, at the bottom of the hill which you can just see behind me, was the Piazza Espana, a beautifully designed landscape featuring a round hedge centerpiece and twin clock towers surrounding it and just in front of the hedge situated one of the city's oldest monuments.

From there, I made my way towards the coastal part of the city, where the busy city port was located, just south of the Le Rambla. Standing proud between the Le Rambla and the port area was the very highly erected bronze pillar and right at the top of the pillar stood the proud statue of Christopher Columbus pointing knowingly towards the sea. I caught an elevator up through the hollow pillar right to the top viewing booth and was able to enjoy the panaromic 360 degrees view of the city and the port. This is an aerial picture taken from the Tower on one of the port's administrative buildings.

The port area was more of a modernly designed area, complete with a marina and also a very large shopping mall where the public toilets were probably one of the bests I've ever had the privilege to use in Europe. How often could you get an amazing view of the Mediterranean sea while washing your hands at the toilet sink? However, amongst these modern complexes, there stood a piece of history that caught my attention, Spain's first submarine, very cool to look at but unfortunately, like many historical sights in Spain, you don't get any information board located beside it or if you do, they were often only written in Spanish, *mutter*.

Even without written information, the submarine commands one's respect and appreciation of the Spanish naval power of the past..

Further inland from the port stood Barcelona's proud Courts of Justice with its Moorish and Gothic mixed design.

Not to be outdone by the French, the Spanish also erects their own Arc de Triumph and even boldly named it so. Comparing it to its French counterpart, you can definitely see the latino flair in its design, can't you?

From here, I made my way to Mount Trebido, the famous mountain many Spanish believed was where Jesus were meditating when Satan appeared to tempt Him. Perhaps Jesus would have found it harder to resist if he saw this picture below instead of the bare land and a few cows..

The mountain was so high up that you had to take a tram from the bottom of the hill up to halfway and then change from that to what we call the 'cable car' but referred to as the 'furnicular' in Europe. Right at the top of the mountain is a very massive stone and cement church, although only recently built, it was built in the style of Gothic with a giant picture of Jesus Christ standing in front of it. About 20 metres southwest of the church was rather an odd sight...an amusement park, complete with roller coasters. Maybe Satan thought if Jesus ever returned as an adventurous type...

After spending a good considerable of time drinking in the magnificent view from this mountain, I reluctantly returned back to ground zero to make my way back to the Mountjuic Park where if I estimated correctly, not only would I be able to see where most of the 1992 Olympics venue, including the stadium were located, but it would also be a prime spot to catch glimpses of a beautiful sunset.

As the sun descended steadily, I walked briskly up the small hill, passing by the Montjuic Castle once more and finally reached a small park which had access to great views of the setting sun and the city basking in its dying light. Already lines of crimson red and orange could be speen splashed across the skies that were getting darker. Other than myself, there were several older people participating in a friendly game of lawn bowling while their friends watched on from a picnic table nearby. They half heartedly played cards while reminiscing about their pasts to one another, at least that's what seemed to be what they were doing judging from the laughter and animated sound of their voices. I guess for all I know they could simply be talking about how annoying it was to have tourists walking around trying to take pictures of sunsets while they're playing cards....who knows! In any case, I was too busy to notice as I happily took pictures of the many shades of a breathtaking sunset, but my favourite? See for yourself!

My time in Barcelona and Spain has set but I really didn't want o go..

Eventually, not wanting to miss my overnight train to Venice, I made my way back to the hostel and departed for the train station. Upon arrival I was alarmed not to be able to locate my train information from the gigantic departure board overhead. Despite still having a good 10 minutes before the train's departure, I could not for the life of me rid myself of the sense of panic that was beginning to build within me. I cautiously approached the information counter and showed the guy my ticket. He pointed on my ticket some Spanish words that were alien to me but basically he explained in his thick Spanish accented English, "this train leaves from another train station, not this one and you will not make it to that station in time, looks like you've missed your train". I blinked a few times trying to register what this man had just said..."NO WAY!!" my head screamed! I specifically asked the ticket salesperson when I purchased the ticket a few days ago as to whether the train was going to leave from the Sans Station (All Station, Barcelona's main station) and he told me the affirmative and now it's all wrong?

As it turned out, up to like one week ago, trains going to Italy were leaving from this train station but the trains had been rerouted to depart from the other station, the information guy went on to explain patiently to me. He didn't say it but I could see from his expression, the one we all know so well "Didn't so-and-so get the office memo about this?!"

Compounding on my poor run of luck was the fact that there were no subsequent trains departing for Venice or Milan for at least another 4 or 5 days. The only silver lining in this very dark black cloud was that they refunded me the money for my train ticket.

Once again, this was one of those "travelling experiences" one could put this down to but I can assure you I did not feel that blaze and 'c-est la vie' about the whole thing then...I was furious! One guy's "oops" had caused me inconveniences of massive proportion! Also I suddenly discovered that since I was going no where that night, I had to sort out accomodation and figure out what was the best and quickest way to get to Italy. What do you think was the first thing I did?

If you guessed going back to the city to sort out my night's accomodation (it was already almost 10pm that night), then EEEEEEEKKK, that would be incorrect. I actually went first to an internet cafe and tried to find alternative methods of getting to Italy and the best way I discovered was to stay for another 2 days in Barcelona and then fly directly to Venice. That sorted, next pressing thing on the agenda of course was to locate the sleeping abode for the night. Luckilly for me, it was certainly the "off-peak" season (if there's ever such thing in Barcelona) and I quickly found a place to stay for the next two nights. Wellll, after saying goodbye earlier, I did promise Barcelona that I would return to her, just didn't think it would be that soon! So..as the famous chinese saying goes "rice has become porridge" (food theme is big with us), there was no point really sulking, instead, time to get excited again at the thought my affair with Spain being prolonged.

2.11.2005

Gillian (good friend met during stay in Valencia) left for Barcelona when I went to Almeria. I rememberd her mentioning that besides Gaudi, Barcelona of course was also sanctuary to Picasso and another modernist artist, Salvador Dali. As you can see, if these extraordinary figures of history with their high appreciation of aesthetic beauty could see how beautiful Barcelona was, who were we then to argue? In any case, just like Gillian, I wanted to visit the infmaous Salvador Dali's museum, located in Figueres, 3 hours train ride north of Barcelona but due to the limited time, I had to forsake this visit but suddenly finding myself with extra 2 days to spend in Barcelona, I decided that fate must have decided that I should not leave before visiting Dali and I was glad because had I not gone, I would not have seen so many of my favourite surreal artist's works. A very perculiar man indeed, especially if you see some of the statues that he created, including those of a man wearing a 1950's style underwater suit, standing beside a voluptious of a woman who surreptitiously stood gracefully balancing a gigantic loaf of French bread on her head. Yes, certainly the theory that Dali and Gaudi sharing some hash cookies while discussing their next projects sure flashed into my mind more than once!

There is nothing wrong with your computer screen, this is indeed what the outside of Dali's museum looks like. I'm going to go out of the limb here and say that I think Dali likes eggs. What do you think?

This is what happens if you're daughter of Dali wanting a doll house for Christmas!

These were just some of the eccentricities that greet you when visiting this very weird but entertaining "house of mirrors", where the strange and absurd never felt more at home here than anywhere else. The train ride back to Barcelona certainly passed by quickly with my coming to terms with what I saw.

By the time I reached Barcelona, it was getting dark and I was happy then to just take it easy back in the hostel and meeting a few people also staying there but no, did not make any lifetime friend..I can tell when you're mocking me!! :P

3.11.2005

As my flight to Venice was in the early afternoon, I did not have much time to explore too much. But in case you're wondering though, yes, this time, I had checked that there was only ONE airport and my plane was definitely flying out from there!

I chose to spend the little time I had by visiting a cute lil Spanish village, one that has been constructed just before the Olympics of 1992 to resemble how a Spanish village would have looked like in the early 20th century. It was rather facinating to walk through the village with its old fashion equipments being used, lots of shops that mimicked the business ran in the 1910's, like glass blowing and handicrafts.

The impressive Spanish styled church and council building as it would have looked like in the 'good ol days'.

I was so worried that somehow I would get delayed again that I literally arrived a good 3 hours before my plane's scheduled departure time and I was happy to report that of course when you're early like that, then everything was uneventful and the trip was suddenly smooth sailing..oh Murphy, I hate you so...

AO Rating of Barcelona: Do you really need me to spell it out?! In total, I spent 20 days in Spain, the longest so far I have spent durig my trip in one country. It is indeed interesting, despite travelling mostly through the Andulusia part of Coastal Spain, then to Madrid, then Valencia and then Barcelona, I felt like I have seen one country with its easily recognisable particular customs and culture but yet at the same time, I noticed also how different they each were, slight but significant dissimilarities, casting their own kind of spells on you. Valencia certainly would be my most favourite city of Spain and indeed of all the cities I've been to so far, not so much judged from the perspective of its touristic appeal, but more its cosy, warm and friendly appeal, a place outside New Zealand and in Spain which I would consider calling home. Barcelona however, takes the cake when it comes to the "wow" factor. It was like watching a thriller movie with many heart gripping subplots. Each time you think you have had it figured out, you get another jolt to remind you that the journey had just started and you better buckle up if you want to survive the trip. Infinite Exhilaration..Hasta luego Barcelona, so long as the sun rises and sets on Mount Monjuic, I shall continue to hope and dream that I shall return once more..

Till then, I have a date with Venice...

Bella Barcelona - Part III remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

• Ties hair up into a perfect round bun and put on librarian glasses* Ahem..Class, turn to page 105 on your History of Spain textbook..

Barcelona was originally a Roman settlement founded on a hill during the reign of Emperor Augustus and before the Romans arrived, the present day Barcelona area was inhabited by the Iberians. The Iberian culture developed and flourished for about 500 years from the 5th to 2nd century B.C. The Romanization of the city took place around 218 B.C and the city was modernised and its culture enriched.
The Carolingian Empire than succeeded the Roman Empire in ruling over Barcelona and under its ruling, the city flourished and achieved its golden age as an important port city of the Mediterranean, rivaling Venice in the 11th and 12th century. The region of which Barcelona is located is known as Catalonia and the Catalans once considered themselves a country to themselves, separate from the rest of Spain and it was not until much later when Spain was united under King Juan Carlos and Queen Isobel of Spain in the late 15th century that Barcelona became part of Spain.

• pulls pin out and with a sophisticated head toss, hair came tumbling down at the same time the stern looking glasses were quickly discarded in favour of a short sleeved top and skirt and sunglasses* Right...time for the field trip now class..let's go!!

So it was indeed impossible not to be overwhelmed by the ancient and rich history of Barcelona as I breathed in the smell of coffee and fresh warm croissants on my way Le Rambla, but not before navigating through ancient and modern buildings, situated harmoniously next to one another. It was yet another glorious sunny day, which in turn made it that much easier to feel light and happy and that everything was fine with the world.

The aerial view of the main street of Barcelona, Le Rambla. This is the street where the pulse of the city is folks! Great place to be entertained while getting breakfast thanks to shops, buskers of all shapes, sizes and noises..and other tourists walking up and down this super busy street.

Prior to coming to Barcelona, I had heard so much about its very very infamous resident, the late Antoni Gaudi, architect and engineer extraordinaire who lived between the late 19th to early 20th century, the beloved son of Barcelona whose very much admired and respected work of art adorned the city's landscape. I was not particularly aware of him or his work especially since it would fall under "modernists" architecture as opposed to ancient ruins, which had so far been much of my focus through this tour. Little did I know I would soon join millions of others in becoming one of his biggest fans and you're about to see for yourself why.

So I set off on this Tour of Gaudi as I dedicated today's sightseeing programme. First up on my list was the Casa Bastillo. Prior to arriving at the Casa, I had a first glimpse of what to expect from Gaudi when I walked past one of the least popular buildings designed by him:

This building was not one of the more famous buildings of the city, hence I didn't even know the name or what it's for! But it gives you an indication of what to expect.

Casa Bastillo used to be Gaudi's family residence. A house he designed to reflect his two greatest love, nature and architecture. The result was a house that boasted architectural and interior design that incorporates the theme of nature in one form or another, both in aesthetic style and also in practical function. Take for example the rooms in the house, the corridors were all designed in the shape of a whale's rib cage, semi oval arches painted in white to resemble the insides of a whale and at the same time, not only were they aesthetically intriguing, they also served the purpose of being arches of greater support to the foundation of the house than the normal beams you often see in more conventional houses. Gaudi also cleverly employed extreme designs, colours and textures with extensive repertory of visual solutions, ingenius use of natural light and space to create an almost dreamlike quality to the building. A good illustration of this could be seen on the balcony of the building. The chimneys were painted and designed to look like something straight out of the technicolour dream with the supporting wall designed to resemble a fire breathing dragon. It was all very enchanting. Or if you're a cynic, you would probably say that Gaudi smoked really gooooood stuff when he designed his house! :-P

The outside of the building. As you can see, funky chimney and the windows are designed to look very very fishy...hmmms.. :D

The funky whacky yet super cool balcony!

By this stage, I was as excited as a child about to open her first present on Christmas day as I trotted along to the next Gaudi masterpiece, this time his work would appear in the form of sculptures, buildings and unique architecture incorporating once again both nature and modern art, all to be found at Park Guell, located about 25 minutes from the main centre. This park originally belonged to Gaudi's patron and admirer of his work, Mr Guell who wanted an English park containig Gaudi's work. The park was never fully completd due to the death of Guell but nevertheless, you would hardly notice this as you venture into the magical world of Gaudi. I almost felt like Alice in Wonderland!

The famous Iguana that greeted visitors at the entrance of this "amusement" park. Check out the cool designs..

After sampling and enjoying the "entree" served by Gaudi, I was ready for the main course..the ultimate Gaudi creation. This was Gaudi's biggest project where he dedicated 40 or more so of his life, starting from 1882, right till his death in 1926. This massive project was borne from Gaudi's grand vision which formed the cornerstones on which the current architects are still relying on to continue what Gaudi has started. It is projected that the project would be completd in 50 years time.

The Temple de la Sagrada Familia was Gaudi's greatest gift to his beloved city. Nothing I had seen so far could ever prepare me for what I was about to discover.

The design and overall plan of the Temple were based on Gaudi's studies and obsession with the use of innovative geometrical shapes of naturalist style. Eight of the twelve bell towers of the facade, dedicated to the Apostles and having a height exceeding 100 metres are already built. The four belfries awiting construction are those of the Facade of Glory. Then ther will be a 170 metre central dome in honour of Jesus Christ and finally, the Tower of the Virgin Mary measuring 125 metres will complete this enormous temple. What also makes this entire project more remarkable is that from the beginning, the building of the "Temple of Sacred Family", built under the concept of a temple of atonement, came only from private donations and alms, and it continues to be so due to the general donations from the faithful and admirers of the project.

I stood gobsmacked outside the entrance for a good 5 minutes before eventually able to shut my jaw and made my way inside the already very crowded temple. Armed with my audio guide, I began to explore first the outside of this temple before making my way inside. My jaws experienced the force of gravity a few more times as I moved in and out of the temple, following the audio guide's directions of what to see first. It became easier and easier to appreciate why Gaudi, the perfectionist took so long in first conceptualising what he wanted to build, and then actually carrying out the construction because the man truly took pride in ensuring the marriage of human technology and the geometrical symetry between what is material and natural was indeed astounding. I'll let the pictures show you what I mean!

The front of the facade and the 4 towers

Closer view of the front 4 towers

This time, the other completd four towers located at the back of the temple. You have no idea how huge these towers are!!

As you can see from the interior of the temple, the poles, beams and ceilings are designed to resemble the trees in a forest and this is an example of Gaudi's artful merging of nature and architecture.

No doubt I had taken lots of photos which I could not put them all here but I cannot wait to share them with you all. After taking my time discovering and admiring Gaudi's genius creation, I joined this long queue to climb up one of the towers. Just to give you how popular this place is. It took me 1 hour just to make it to the start of the stairs and another 2 hours of traffic jam, or rather body-to-body crawl before I actually got to the top. The view of course was amazing. Once again, will share all the photos later!

After this, it was rather hard to conjure up the energy or spirit to top this. So instead, I chose to save the rest of Barcelona for the next day. So I was happy to casually stroll back, to reflect on the impact Gaudi and his work had on me. Truly remarkable. The Temple of Sacred Family would easily rate as one of the most amazing building I have seen to date in Europe! Then again, I still have so much to see of Barcelona, I only covered like half of the main sights, if that! Oh boy...I have a feeling Barcelona will be rivalling Valencia soon as my favourite destination the way it was going! We shall see what tomorrow brings..

Brava Barcelona! - Part II remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

After what was a truly relaxing and well needed pit-stop, I bid both Almeria and Robert goodbye before boarding the train that would take me to Malaga before switching to a night train to Barcelona.

I sat down at my designated seat opposite this guy who looked suddenly elated at the prospect of my joining him. This ought to have been a sound warning for me to change seats as there weren't that many seats taken. Anyhow, sitting down, I quickly buried myself in my Harry Potter book before I was interrupted by the guy. He introduced himself and within a minute, he began to fill in me on his tragic love life and how he was just a normal guy seeking love and affection and how he had so much to offer if only there is a woman out there who would give him a chance. He then looked at me enquiringly and I of course without missing a beat looked back blankly as if not understanding his meaning. Already I was contemplating different excuses to offer him for my untimely escape from his company but he proceeeded to regale me with further details of his love life despite my silent protest and look of fear. Eventually, sensing that I was nevver going to propose to be his girlfriend, he outrightly suggested that perhaps we should get together, this is despite the fact that we were going different places that night, so which meant he expected that I would just completely forget my trip in order to be with this Mr Don Quiote. I quickly muttered something along the lines of not looking for love but just wanted to travel and he eventually (after I repeated this statement at least 5 times) and finally the guy conceded that I would never be dancing the flamenco with him anytime soon or be sharing many a siesta with him!

As soon as the train pulled up at the station that I was meant to get off, I couldn't get out of my seat any quicker. Bidding Mr Valentine a quick goodbye, I thankfully disembarked before continuing my journey onwards to Barcelona!

30.10.2005

I arrived nice and early and headed straight to my hostel, which I understood from the hostel's email instruction that it was in the 'heart of the city' only a few metro stops away. Heart of the city my ass! It was at least 6 metro stops away, lasting a good 25 to 30 minutes ride and in the metro, that's not a brief travel time. I was also a bit annoyed to discover terms like "upon exiting the metro, our hostel is just a few minutes away from the metro" turned out to be a good 15 minutes walk uphill on a street. So by the time I dislodge my turtle shell, my mood did not match the sunshine that greeted me that morning. Anyhow, I made my 6 metro stop rides back into the heart of the city, excitingly anticipating my visit to the city's Cathedral. I was also informed given that it was Sunday, there was a free show of Barcelona's traditional community folk dance being held at the square outside the Cathedral. As you can see from the photo, the locals took this event quite seriously, dressing appropriatekly for it and moving with the grace that would have made Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers proud. It is hard to describe the dance, except to say they all held hands forming a huge circle and pretty much moving to the music,, converging forward and back and side stepping skillfully.

Ole, ole, ole, ole, feeling hot hot hot! OK, the oldie folk dancers didn't exactly perform to this music but it's my blog and I'll make it up if I want to..

So, after being treated to a pleasant exposure to folk dancing Barcelona style, I decided to drop by at the Cathedral. I was disappointed to discover that like many historical and significant buildings in Europe, the Cathedral was under restoration and therefore it's maginificent architecture was marred by the ugly scaffolding built around it. Luckily, I got around this problem by taking the picture of the church from the back. Whilst it was a hot sunny day, I was glad that I didn't resort to dressing cooly, meaning I would have been turned away by the church fashion police who reminded the crowd to respect the church dress code of covering yourself appropriately. We certainly do not want to tempt the priests do we?

Just outside the back of the church with one of the many monuments

The church as viewed from the back.

As I was still finding my bearings, I decided to simply walk around just to get a feel for what the city is like. It is certainly a very busy city but somehow, unlike the forboding feeling of chaos and "impurity" that I felt about Madrid, my vibes on Barcelona was more promising. Even though the atmosphere was that of a loud hustle and bustle, yet people seem to scurry around not so much in impatient haste, but more as if they could not wait to celebrate life, a rush to enjoy their day as much as they can. From the many buskers performing on Barcelona's main pedestrian street of Le Rambla, down to the police officers directing the busy afternoon traffic, everyone was good natured in going around their business, smiling, shouting in greeting or lounging chatting with friends while having a coffee at many of the outdoor cafes spread sproadically around town.

Unsurprisingly, during my walk, I made several wrong turns here and there when looking for a particular street and during one of these faux pas, it turned out to be one that was worth making as I came across an interesting graffiti with a even more interesting website address. Have a look!

Finally! Being appreciated and receiving a way overdue accolade!

The fragrance of freshly plucked flowers mingled with recently brewed spanish grounded coffee punctured the air pleasantly as I made my way further down Le Rambla and heading east towards the Parc de Ciutedad (city park of course).

As it was a Sunday, there were quite a people sauntering around, mostly young families pushing strollers through the park, a few young kids chasing one another around and several joggers taking full advtantage of the beautiful day. Who could blame them? I happilly joined them, walking through one of the many entrances into the park. I first came to a large rotunda in the middle of the park where several guys were playing some music while at the center, a young man was gyrating away, obviously practising his flamenco moves while a small group of people encircled him, happily absorbing the festive atmosphere plus a free flamenco show. After a few minutes, I reluctantly tore myself away to enjoy the rest of my walk through the park.

I eventually arrived at this most magnificent centerpiece located at the heart of park. It is hard to describe what it is. It's not exactly a monument, nor is it a fountain, but I suppose the closest description I can come up with is that it seems to resemble an elaborate and majestically well decorated man made pond. I guess another one where the picture speaks louder than the words.

See? Told you it's easier to show than tell! Beautiful no though?

Yours truly travelling incognito...

As many of you probably know that I love observing people, that is, in a objective, "trying to figure them out in the development and understanding of the human psychology" kind of way and not in a scary, freaky and spooky kind <cue Twilight Zone music>.

So, the City Park was an optimal venue for my lil hobby as I patrolled and gazed, strolled and was amazed, by how the Spanish truly give meaning to the word, Leisure. Siesta is one thing, but it was difficult not to smile appreciatively and be entertained by the people of all ages going about their daily relaxing ritual ranging from the hyperactive precocious kids, screaming and laughing as they chased one another around the park to young couples walking hand in hand, the girls with dreamy looks and the boys with mischevious twinkles in their eyes that did not bother to hide the anticipation and promises of frivolous fun they were going to have. Then there were the older couples who were equally happy and content to simply sitting on oak wooden benches, watching and living vicariously through the younger park goers as they go about enjoying the remaining sunshine of the day.

So it was with this feel-good and relaxed feeling that I eventually left the park and made my way back to the city, stopping by a hostel that was actually located in the central city and booked my accomodation for the remaining of my stay in Barcelona. Already I was excited at the prospect of the next few days in this city, oh yes, the vibe is certainly good.

Barcelona Bonanza!! Part I remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Ok, before I start this entry, please let me clear up something for you. As you can see there's 2 dates on all my entries. The first one (which is always the later date of the two) is the date of when I wrote the entry and the second one is the date of the time I was actually in the place I was writing about. Sorry for the unnecessary headaches for those who are anal about chronology and sequence of events like moi..hehe

In my last entry, I mentioned lost of driver's license. I actually did not even realise it was gone until an hour before boarding the bus, that's how terrible I am with things like that..I mean, sure, passport I'm super careful..but driver's license is something I just keep in my money belt and hardly ever look at it except to use it as a security deposit when renting audio guides from the museums and before you enquire, no, I didn't leave it at any museum either! Anyway, I am about to find out how efficient the NZ embassy is overseas.

Right, now getting back to the blog..so not sure if you guys remember my meeting with Robert Kaasmacher during my stay in Seville. Robert, a German psychologist residing in Almeria convinced me (I'm sure he used hypnotism!) that Almeria is worth visiting because a) It is a coastal town facing the Mediterranean (aka, more beach time) and b) they have the Alcazaba, a city fortress only second to the Alhambra (see my Granada entry) and c) In the midst of the winter, the coldest temperature on average there was over 30 degrees!!! What was a historian geeky and beach loving and sun worshipping girl to do?!! I also needed another pit stop from all the travel hectic schedule and so I boarded the night bus from Valencia for Almeria, thinking this new experience (been on night train before but not on bus) would add another perspective to my travel experience but I think I definitely got more than what I bargained for...

The bus I planned to board was scheduled to depart at 23:48 (see, I'm already telling time like an European) but since it's to a small town like Almeria and it was so late, I did not bother reserving a seat..oh why, why does Murphy's Law mock me so! So as you can guess by now, I was informed that this bus was full and instead I had to take the next one, leaving at 02:30..I was like great, what the heck am I going to do for the next few hours, as all the shops in the bus station has already closed down for the day and it's half an hour's bus back into the city, so I decided to hang around, quietly ignoring that uneasy feeling that was slowly rising from the bottom of my stomache..(maybe it was no more sinister than my hunger..)

Ten minutes into my waiting, I was approached by a Morrocan man trying to chat me up...despite polite subtle hints that I rather be alone which was of course not so subtly ignored by the guy, I decided on a more crafty approach (I always believe that rudeness should be avoided at all cost if possible). Summoning my Oscar winning performance, I pretended to call someone on my mobile and proceed to chat away (which of course gave me a good excuse to dismiss the guy). He of course waited for me to finish my call but I was having the most animated and interesting conversation with myself and refused to hang up (maybe that german psychologist's expertise would come in handy later). Finally, he left me alone and I decided to go to a more brightly lit place, so made my way downstairs where there was a cafeteria.

My initial relief turned into anxiety again as I was about to enter the cafeteria, there were like these 4 men already sitting inside who looked like all their Christmases have just arrived all at once upon noticing my arrival. They started calling out for me to come and join them...arrrrgh! My respite has turned into another lion's cage! Murphy mocked me further when I saw the Morrocan guy approaching as well...Talking about feeling trapped in a corner like a poor lil wee wabbit that I was...

As I was contemplating what would hurt less, the "fire" or the "frying pan", I saw the bus that I orginally wanted to take pulling up and instinctively I walked towards it and decided that perhaps the safest thing to do was to see if they have an empty seat by chance so I could leave on this bus instead of waiting for another couple of hours. I shuddered at the thought of having to fend off these predators for that period of time. I guess to be honest, this would be the first time since I commenced my travels that I really wished I wasn't alone. Where is the knight in shining in armour when you need one (tune of "I need a Hero" playing in the background). Anyhow, through my very limited and broken Spanish and lots and lots of wild gesticulation, I managed to convey my request to the bus driver and to my great relief, he nodded and ushered me into the bus.

You know how I earlier contemplated the "fire" and the "frying pan", well, I just escaped both only to walk into a lion's den. I know then what it was like to be a piece of fresh meat. There were many predators in the bus and I could feel their eyes on me and even though the darkly lit bus meant I couldn't possibly see their faces, I could certainly feel them metaphorically licking their lips in anticipation. There were several seats free and unfortunately, they were all beside "hungry" predators. I walked all the way back looking once again for the least painful path of death and ended up sitting beside a man in his 50's in a bright red jacket who turned out to be quite cordial. I really can't describe it but the atmosphere inside the bus was just eerie for me. I was like a cat with all its hairs standing when danger is near or a dog with a slow menacing growl upon feeling threatened..

While Papa Smurf didn't look like he was going to attack me, I had other problems to contend with. The bus' toilet wasn't exactly pleasant and there was a lady blowing her nose and constantly coughing just behind me. It was going to be a long night..surely nothing else could be worst?! Murphy strikes again! A baby started this high pitch wailing and for a split second, I contemplated wailing myself, in misery! These combining factors made me moved a few seats to the front, risking sitting beside this middle aged guy who after several attempts at trying to be "friendly" with me, in the end, decided to leave me alone. However, there were 2 younger guys sitting in front of me, who kept turning back and smiling and staring at me. Forget white knight, a paperbag would have suffice as well at that moment! I thought right, I'll just ignore them and try to sleep. I closed my eyes for not more than a minute when I heard a clicking sound of a digital camera. I was shocked to discover upon opening my eyes that one of the guys sitting in front of me just took a picture of me with his phone camera. Ohmygosh! I'm on the highway not to Almeria but to hell! This has certainly been the worst night travel experiences I have ever had.

I arrived in Almeria, weary and drained but still too wound up and tensed at the same time. I was so glad though to make it in one piece and awfully glad to see a familiar face. Robert was of course apologetic for my experience but of course it wasn't his fault. Oh, I forgot to say that Robert has kindly offered to let me stay at his place while I was in Almeria. He lives about 25 minutes by car in Almerimar (yes, they really need to work on their originality in name of places) and only 15 minutes walk from the beach. But right then, all I wanted to do was sleep and that was what I got..a good solid 10 hours worth to cure the exhaustion!

Later, Robert took me to a nearby town, El Hida for some lunch and we just caught up on news. He then showed me a nearby fortress by the beach of Almerimar. It was once used by the Moorish empire to guard the Spanish water in the 11th century. Today the Spanish custom uses it to guard the same water from Morrocans trying to enter the country illegally.

The fortress of Almerimar.

As you can see from the picture, the weather was indeed as pleasant as Robert described. It was super hot and humid too! We then walked around the beach for a bit before heading home. Robert's place is a nice 2 bedroom apartment with a great view of the sea and it comes also with a tennis court! Excellent! Poor Robert didn't know what hit him when I suggested a game of tennis. I "accidentally" forgot to mention my level of fitness to him. Oops, also left out that I used to play tennis at school. It was also sometime ago since I was able to do any sports or go running. This and all that added tension in the bus made me just want to go out there and blast the balls all over the court...poor Robert but despite my best imitation of Serena Williams, he did considerably well to return the balls despite the fact that he only played tennis like twice in his life...doh! :P

Coincidentally, Robert's family was also visiting from Germany at the same time, so he went and spend time with them that night and left me at home with his satelite tv of over 150 channels. So after leaving my aggression on court, I was able to transform into a couch potato for that night.

26th October

Robert had to work and so he dropped me off at the bus station to catch a bus into Almeria town centre so I can do some sightseeing. It was a nice pleasant bus ride for a change, with views of the mountains on one side and the sea on the other, almost all the way into town.

Almeria, like most Andalusian towns were of course once under Christian rule before the Moorish conquered this region for 700 years, only to then be reconquered once more by the Christians. This rich tapestry of history was proudly displayed all over Andulusia. Similarly, Almeria has its fair share of mosques that were then converted into churches, this was evident from the Moorish styled domes in most of the religious architectures. However, there was no grandeur sight than the Alcazaba, Almeria's fortress located at the top of the hill overlooking this port city.

In 955, Adb al-Rahman, the first caliph of Al-Andalus granted the status of madina to the nucleus of Almeria, ordering the construction of the Alcazaba to act as a fortress as well as the main administration centre for the Moorish to control Andalusia. After the Christian's reconquest, they extended the fortress including building a Watch Tower and a church with a bell tower known as Santa Maria la Mayor in 1763, under the reign of Charles III. Bell was used to warn the inhabitants of the incursions of pirates (think Johny Depp in Pirates of the Carribean *drool*)

As you can see from the pictures below how stunning this fortress was and imagine how much more glorified it would have been during its heydays!

View on one of the admistrative buildings in the fort.

View of the eastern wall

One corner of the wall and a great view of the city below.

Another beautiful view of this sunny port city from the Tower of the Gunpowder.

Another view of the port and the city.

Sitting on the Tower of the Watermill, Princess Al-Delina waiting for her pirate JD to rescue her! Blasted wind!!

The southern wall leading to a monument built apparently by one of the Knight Templars after the Catholic reconquest of Andalusia and this fortress.

After a good tour of the fortress, I caught up with Robert for lunch before heading back to Almerimar.

The rest of the days spent here in Almeria while was Godsent and great for me in terms of recharging the batteries, unfortunately, they are not inspiring to write about. I basically played more tennis, went for runs, sunbathing or simply reading and relaxing. Then on the 29th, I caught the evening train to Barcelona, and this is where I found another Spanish gem!

AO rating of Almeria: Like Bratislava, it wasn't exactly a historical or overly exciting place to be, but at the same time, it is such a delight to be able to take a holiday from your holiday so to speak and actually have no planned itinerary for the day or worry about which museum to visit first. So besides the stressful bus ride initially, Almeria was a good distraction! Right, Barcelona next!

Attractive Alméria remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Hostel Room 3 was bustling with vibrant energies of its two excited inhabitants who couldn't wait to soak up the warm sunrays and to feel the cool soft white sands tickling their toes..that's right. Today is Beach Day, Hooray! Playa de la Mavarrosa, here we come!!

While waiting for "Miss" Andrea to get ready, Gill and I decided to check out the local Mercardo and get ourselves some cooked breakfast! Gill wanted to make her world famous omelette and I was in charge of hunting down chocolate croissants (oh woe is me!) It was fun walking around the wet market that also housed cafeterias, bakeries and Tabaccas (like a tobacco shop but with newspapers, sweets etc). After completing our shopping list, we headed home to cook up a storm. Andrea of course came out of his room well groomed just in time for breakfast. Gill and I exchanged looks of "Oh, he's soooo doing the dishes". The mushroom and capsicum omelette was delicious and everyone was pleased with my choice of choc croissants, scorring a resounding 9.9 from both the US and Italian judges.

As we were about to head off, a couple of "green turtles" (our nickname for newbies that just arrived to the hostel the night before, you can often tell by their disorientated and timid looks)walked in and asked if they could join us at the beach. Christina and Jenna were from the States but currently studying in England and were in Valencia for their semester break. So 5 of us set of to Mavarrosa beach in the highest of spirits and skimpiest of bikinis. Boys, if you're now scrolling straight to the pictures, you would already discovered to your disappointment that I wouldn't be dumb enough to put them here, would I?! I mean, they are going to be my drawcards in making all of you sit through hours and hours of travel slideshows :P (I am still working on the girls' ones!)

As you can see from the picture of the beach, it's incredibly beautiful. Calm fine day without a single cloud in the sky. As it was considered autumn and thus too cold to be on the beach for the locals, we pretty much had the entire mile stretch of the beach to ourselves. It was heaven with sand. The funny thing was initially, after all that early hype, I think everyone was kind of exhausted and so, everyone actually had a nice lil nap. The whole group was very in sync with one another. We all woke up around the same time, started talking, biting on munchies..Gill brought her guitar, so she was plucking some tunes while we all softly sang along, each displaying reserved enthusiasm, perhaps due to personal insecurities with singing in tunes. Still, we had a ball! As there was hardly anyone on the beach, the bold and daring Gill declared she would be damned if she was getting tan lines and proceed to go topless. Andrea's jaw dropped and stay hung open for a good 5 minutes I think. The rest of us girls kinda giggled with slight shy embarassment. Yes, I know you want to know whether I also threw caution (and bra) into the wind and went topless as well...Remembering my profession, all I am going to say is that this information is confidential and classified. I guess you will just have to wait and see for yourself whether I have a tan line or not when you see me..*smirk*

Can you spot that mysterious topless woman?

After a good period of the morning and early afternoon spent basking in the glory that is another beautiful Valencian day, we bid the Mediterranean sea adiòs and reluctantly returning to the city, but without Andrea who decided he was going to remain at the beach to collect his thoughts. We really could have spent all day at the beach ourselves but Gill wanted to catch a train to Barcelona that evening and I was to catch a bus to Almeria later that night myself. On our way back, Gill told us about this delicious Spanish afternoon tea except that you actually have cofee instead of tea and scones are replaced with what's called "chirios". I should have taken pictures. Hard to describe except to say it's donut dough made into small breadsticks and you dip them in this bowl of rich, thick dark chocolate sauce (like choc fondue). Second time that day, we were in heaven! Here's the pic of the 4 "cats that just finished their creams".

From left to right, Jenna, Gillian, Christina and Adelina, all tanned and happy! Oh yeah, you can see the chirio on Jenna's plate!

As I've described the gorgeous Gillian before, she's a lovely girl but way too laid back. What was her originally planned departure time of 4pm, then became 5pm, then it was 6 because she wanted to follow me to the top of the cathedral tower to take pictures of the city. (She's too proud I think to admit that perhaps she didn't really want to go because we were having such a blast and I certainly was in no hurry to see her go either!) Anyway, we made our way to the top of the tower and took lots of photos and as the sun was setting, we were able to even take great sunset photos.

The majestic baroque styled Catedral de la Valencia!

View of Plaza Reial (Royal Square that's just outside the Cathedral) from the tower.

The sun about to set on Valencia and Gill and my time together, but I can see the sun just rising over our newfound friendship!

I think Gill would have kept delaying her departure but as I really didn't want her to miss her LAST train, I determinedly pushed her along and finally we gave each other an enormous bearhug and said "hasta luego" (until we meet again), trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. This is indeed another friendship formed in a day but will last for life.

AO Rating of Valencia: Without a doubt, my favourite place so far in all the European places I have been. For you in NZ, Valencia to me is like Christchurch, not a big city, but big enough for all the conveniences you need but it also has character and many different geographical and historical richness that really welcomes you and make you feel one of its own. A home away from home. Madrid, of course would be Wellington, cold, morbid and lacking in vibrancy. No points for guessing what NZ city Barcelona is likened to..you'll have to wait till I get there. For now, I dedicate this page and one of my best times had so far to the city which I had upon my departure, left a piece of my heart and soul and oh yeah, my drivers license! More later..

Vivacious Valencia - Part II remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Amazing how constrasting the vibrations of the two cities can be, like those of Madrid and Valencia. As soon as the bus pulled into the Valencia bus station, "I feeeel goood....I know that I should" Hmmms, maybe I should call this Adelina's Travel Musical!.

Everything just went smoothly..my shoulders thanked me as I found my hostel in no time, rooming with 2 others, Gillian, an American who coincidentally spent 6 months working in NZ previously and called it her 2nd home, and Ian, the Irish guy (yes girls, with killer accent). After he introduced himself, I think he was explaining that he was cycling through Spain, but with that amazing singsong melodic accent, he might as well have been reciting all the different parts of a bicycle to me and still I would be equally enchanted. Once again, the vibrations felt right about this hostel and its inhabitants and little did I know then that Valencia was about to become my favourite place in Spain!

23.10.2005

Irishboy Ian was sleeping in on his last day in Spain (Kev, I see now that sleeping is a revered institution in Ireland, I apologise for my giving you heaps earlier on this). So Gillian and I decided to go sighseeing together. To make up the Travelling Trio was Andrea (Italian for Andrew). He was also staying at the hostel and was in Valencia for a filming assignment (working for an Italian television company). You know how we girls often get hassled for taking forever to get ready to go out? Well, it's about time the tables are turned! Gill and I had to wait forever for Andrea! We should have known as soon as told he us he was going for a "quick shower", carrying 2 make-up bags (which I later discovered contained his shower stuff in one bag and his "body enhancement" items in the other). After a quick breakfast, we were off!!

Valencia is the 3rd largest city in Spain with a population of 3 million people. Located also at the southern coast of Spain, it is situated between Seville and Barcelona and just like its other southern cousins, it was blessed with the amazingly beautiful sunny hot weather, 33 degrees today, pheew! Melllltttting!

As today was Sunday where entries to all museums are free, we decided to take a stroll down the "dried up" riverbed and along the way, visit Valencia's Modern Arts Museum (only going because the other two wanted to go). Previously, there used to be a river that run across Valencia. In the 1950's the Valencian City Council decided to revert the part of the river in the city elsewhere in order to expand the city's perimeter. God knows why couldn't they just build a bridge across the river to enlarge the city! Annnnyway, as a result of this, the old river was dried up and it was turned into a gigantic park containing fountains, monuments, playgrounds, soccer fields amongst some of the things. The size of this riverbed isn't small either. The Length probably would have been a good 8 to 10km and the width would probably be 2 soccer fields side by side at an estimate. It was really a pleasant walk since it was so hot. As there were quite a lot to see along the way plus getting to know my two new friends, I didn't realise that we had walked the entire dried up river bed, all 3 hours of walking!

Gillian is best described as a free spirit. She graduated and then decided that the only responsibilities she was prepared to handle at that point in her life was to decide what place to travel to next. She was the closest to a laidback Kiwi as I have come across so far on my trip. We got along as well as two opposites can be. I was the kick in the butt she needed once a while to get going and she's the one that would slap me a few times to calm me down when I'm running around like a headless chook.

Andrea made both Gillian and I laughed out loud and snorting in an unladylike manner when he first started talking about himself. His first line was "Not sure if you guys noticed but I am not like how you would imagine an Italian man would be." It was so funny because what he said couldn't have been further from the truth. With his naturally curly thick hair smoothed by lots of greasy gel and tied at the back into a small ponytail, his tight black body hugging t-shirt and the lazy casual charm which he had in abundance and no shame or qualms in throwing around..who was he really kidding??!! His English was really limited but we did learnt that he was here training with some film crew on movie making. Another reason why he was SOOOoooOOO an Italian was that this man puts the "tense" in Intense!! He made me look like a pot smoking, chilled out Jamaican!He also possessed amazing musical talent..not just in singing, but more so in creating drum beats with various parts of his body. Seriously, he was a walking drumkit, able to mimick various bass and keyboard sounds with his mouth. All the way walking from the city to the dried up river bed, we caught everyone's attention, singing, humming or speaking in a wild mix of English, Spanish and broken Italian (mine). I think we would have been less obvious singing "Doe a deer" wearing mismatched curtain cut-outs!

The fountain at the centre of the riverbed.

Cute signs located all over the riverbed.

One that guides the bridge at the riverbed..reminds you of Gotham City?

We eventually reached our point of destination. As part of an international Science exhibition held not long ago in Valencia, the city built several state of the art modern buildings and a bridge and honestly, it was like walking onto the movie set of Star Wars. See for yourself!

The bridge over the riverbed.

The mothership has landed!

In a galaxy far far away...

Then we headed back into city and I took photos of some of the nice buildings in the city..

This is the "mercado", which is the city's wet market. Very impressive, you can find everything in there, from fresh vegetables, meat, fishes and fruits to coffee, croissants and stationery!

This is the Bullfight arena. Really impressive. It was closed that day so we couldn't go in but would have been great to see a bullfight, although not sure how they would respond to my red top, the bulls that is, not the Spanish men..

That reminds me..forgot to mention that when I was in Cadiz, you know how it was so hot? So I was walking around in shorts as you do in a summer like temperature..anyway, I caused 2 accidents! I was crossing this road and this guy on a scooter on the road I was crossing was turning onto the street I was walking on and he kept looking over at me and talking to me, wolfwhistling when he slammed right into the back of a small truck. Remarkably, his body suffered less injury than his ego I think. But what was worst, there was another guy on a scooter behind the first guy who did the same thing and so he slammed into the back of the first guy..so yeah...if you're a hot blooded Spanish male and you drive, you are likely to get killed on the road. I must say, Spain is definitely good for one's ego..being a novel asian in Spain or not, it is kinda flattering to walk by a group of really loud men jesting with one another and suddenly they all became quiet and just stared and stared until their eyes almost falling out of the sockets...so funny!

In the evening, the 3 musketeers, Gill, Andrea and I all went to have a typical Valencian Spanish meal, called Paella (pronounced Pahia). It's like Rissotto cooked with different range of spices and you can choose various toppings too, i.e with chicken or with salamis, with seafood and so on, very yummy! Another quiet night, Gillian reading her book and Andrea and I played chess. Starting to become like a Harry Potter movie..hmmms.

(To be continued...)

Vivà Valencia!! remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

I knew I shouldn't have listened to the receptionist of my hostel in Granada who said I didn't have to book for my hostel in Madrid. She shrugged "After all, it's autumn and it's the capital..so many hostels to choose from." Capital Schmapital I say! I arrived and pretty much walked for 1.5 hours with the turtle shell breaking my back. You should have seen my shoulders where the straps of the bag made their impressions, I looked like I had been tortured by a medieval device. Don't get too excited now..

It's one thing being turned away from one hostel to another, but it's another thing when the hostel staff don't speak a word of English (and they work at international hostels, go figure), and, to top it off, it didn't help trying to find a hostel when you are in a strange city and getting lost while looking for a hostel, arrrgh.

Eventually, I marched up yet another street off the city centre, not particularly pleased to see the working girls already busy working. By that time though, I could have easily hired one of them just to get a room myself! Again, don't get too excited..

Eventually, I found not only a hostel with a room, but it was a single room at a very reasonable price and I said "SI, SI!" before the receptionist even came to asking that question. Then I was off in search of a Vodafone shop to top up my credit. Ok, please allow me to whinge a bit. When I first got to Europe, I thought it would be cheaper if I buy a basic phone here with an European SIM card so I could text or call people who I would be seeing or staying with in Europe. Of course, I then found out that Vodafone had a "passport" system where you can text and call people at a reduced rate for countries participating in this system. Guess what? NZ was one of them, which meant, I could have used my NZ phone and SIM card and still paid the same! Arrrgh! Having said that, it's not that cheap to text people. 75 Euro cents each text sent. I have easily spent at least 120 Euros just on topping up my credit to date, crazy!!

After that little errand, I was back at the hostel kicking back and it was nice to see things beginning to turn around in my favour. I discovered that the hostel organised some sort of evening activity each night and tonight, it was the Flamenco dancing night!! Excellent, been wanting to see one of those and I actually was getting one for free!

Wasn't sure what to expect, but I had images of guitars, clarinets and lots of "Olè!", I got all that and more! A group of 4 appeared. The guitarist was easily recognisable together with the male and female flamenco dancers (unless their normal evening frocks often resemble the cast of Saturday Night Fever).The fourth person, a beautiful Latina's purpose was rather unknown until the lights were dimmed and the first string of the guitar was plucked. Suddenly, the most beautiful clear crisp voice filled the room as the mystery lady enchanted us all with her amazing voice, crooning a beautiful tragic Spanish lovesong. Before we could "return" from being blown away, we were swept further into this tidal wave of music and dance as the guitar came alive with a fast number and first the lady and then the man took to the dance floor exhibiting a harmonious marriage of strength and grace as they swirled, kicked, tapped and clapped to the upbeat flamenco song accompanied by the feverish strumming of the guitar. As the sweat trickled down the head of the guitar player, he would emerge from his strumming trance and chanted "Venga...Olé!" (like "Let's go!"), motivating the dancers to move faster, the clarinets clapped, the feet loudly tapped, Olé!! It was magical!

Venga!!! Vamos!! The flamenco dancers cheered on by the songbird.

21.10.2005

Today there was no smiling sun to greet me. It marked my first raining weather in Madrid. Oh well, guess the sunshine couldn't last forever *pout* I decided the best way to see such a big city would probably to catch one of those "hop on and hop off tour buses", like the one I took in London. It turned out to be a good idea as I managed to see a lot in the whole day plus my bus ticket entitled me to 3 museums as well. Just in case you think most of the time, I memorised all the name of places I've seen together with its history, I am sorry to burst your bubble by admitting that I often referred to the tourist information and map that I gathered for each place of my visit and as you would expect, if you know me well enough, sooner or later, something like this was going to happen..I lost my tourist info on Madrid and so I couldn't exactly tell you the name of places but I can kind of described them!

Ok, let's focus on something more positive..so this bus tour, it was not as fun as the London's one as there was no Live commentary from a local telling us naughty jokes about a monument of the city, instead we got one of those "If you want to listen to the commentary in English, press 2". However, to make up for it, we were treated to a big protest by the farmers federation,(probably sick of the sheepdogs' siestas). I had to laugh out loud when two of the tourists on the bus kept pushing the tape recorder and adjusting their headpiece, looking very much like they were expecting some sort of commentary on the protests and of course, they were outraged not to get any..I can only guess they're probably Australians.. *duck*. Here are some of the pics taken and I shall announce them in no particular order...(drumroll)

This is a building with pointy bits on top..(what?!!)

Ooh, I know this one..it's the National Library of Madrid!

This is a fountain displaying Neptune coming out of the water, fountain located at the square...the one near the garden..

This is by far the most impressive building for me, it's the city's old post office, with a strong gothic design.

Majestic sculpture of Dianna, Goddess of War, on the square just in front of the old post office.

After all that sight seeing, I went and have some lunch. Here's another thing interesting in Spain. For a country once ruled for 700 years by Muslims, you wouldn't expect to see a country so obssessed with pork meat. By obssessed, I mean you constantly come across restaurants with legs of ham dangling from the restaurant's ceiling. I'm serious! So instead of under a sky full of stars, your dining pleasure would be under hundreds of pig thighs hanging from the ceiling. They are coated with olive oil and just underneathe them, there's this cup that catches the oil that dripped from the meat. Thinking of becoming vegetarian today?! I see that Lonely Planet was not kidding when it described Spain as "Miss Piggy's nightmare!" In Madrid, they are slightly more civilised, hanging porkies in a more discreet manner, see picture, sorry, the blur was due to my giggling while taking the picture.

With a oink oink here, and an oink oink there..

The evening was spent checking out the museums. I won't bore you with the details but Madrid was more famous for its modern art and so I saw a lot of abstract and modern art which I must say, if they weren't free, wild horses wouldn't be able to drag me through them.

22.10.2005

I cannot pinpoint what exactly, but if you are like me, a firm believer in auras and vibrations, then I can tell you that Madrid gave me a very bad aura and vibration. Something about the place, just wrecked of unsavoury like feeling. The city isn't dirty, but at the same time, I constantly feel a sense of discomfort and unease, like I need to "wash" constantly..and I use this word metaphorically. There was something unpure about this place. I decided on this basis to leave Madrid for Valencia. I initially planned to spend my morning visiting the city's palace but ended up instead stuck at the hostel, searching the net for accomodation in Valencia. In the end, I only managed a quick glance of the palace from the outside and the cathedral opposite to it before leaving the city in the same mood that I arrived in, foul.

AO Rating: Combination of things made my stay in Madrid rather unpleasant, not all bad of course, the Flamenco dancing and bus tour was great but all in all, I would bid Madrid "Adiòs", rather than "Hasta luego".

Morbid Madrid remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Arrived in Cadiz like 3 in the afternoon. The first thing I noticed was the heat! Geez, if I thought Seville was cooking, Càdiz was boiling baby! It was at least 32 degrees, sunny and humid! I was taking my chances by not booking my accommodation ahead of time and I must have still been in Lady Luck’s good grace as I managed to secure a 4 mixed dorm accommodation for the night. After checking in, I was further elated to discover that I had the whole room to myself! What did I do first thing after dropping off that turtle shell? No points for guessing, that’s right, checking out that beach!!

This is going to sound shocking, rather than just walking on the beach like most tourists, this sports bunny had to go and overdo things hadn’t she. I'm sticking to the excuse that I needed to stretch my legs after the bus ride, hence the jog. As it was considered to be “cold” autumn season, there was hardly anyone on the beach except for me, a few seagulls and a few broad shouldered hunky surf babes. Of course as I was running past them, I did my best Baywatch impression, running and tossing my hair etc. It had the desired effect on the boys until, also living up to my famous reputation, I stepped on some soft sand and stumbled rather ungracefully and disgracefully, didn't fall though..but perhaps I should have, then I could have buried my head in the sand in shame! *grumble* The sands were not like white powder, but nevertheless, a welcome change to the city scene of Seville.

That night, I met up with some of the others staying at the hostel. The bunch of them were playing a card game called “dumbass” and they invited me to join in, (was I really that obvious?!) We had lots of fun that night since most of them already started drinking since 2pm. Everyone had problems with names, so soon, any attempts at recalling names were abandoned and instead, we dubbed each other by our countries of origin and so I was “Kiwi”, and there were “Aussie”, “Iowa”, “Cath” and “Kim”, “Miss Ireland” and “Guiness” (couple of really mad Irish ppl!) It’s quite rare I think when you have such a big group of people, each with their own distinctive personalities, coming from different countries and yet all able to become best of friends in one single night..really rewarding to feel like you are meeting old friends, rather than new. The night of merry making was not without its ill effect though, resulting in the birth of a hairless panda bear (black ring around the eyes) the next morning.

18.10.05

So this hairless panda bear trotted off to see Cadiz through half closed eyes, which of course looked completely shut for those not specially trained in detecting Chinese half closed eyes. Being more famous for its summer fiestas and beach paradise retreat, it came as no surprise for me that there would only be two places of special interest in the town itself, the local Cathedral and the Plaza de la Mina and Plaza Espana. The cathedral, built after the Christian’s reconquest of Spain in the 14th century, its special features include having a dome clad with gilded tiles and its majestic interior adorned with marble and coloured jaspers. Also climbed up the tower (surprise, surprise) and took great pictures of the city.

Plaza de la Mina and Plaza Espana are located side by side near the town’s port. Plaza Espana has the Monument of the Parliament, erected in early 19th century to commemorate Cadiz being the cradle of Spain’s liberal movement, first established here in 1812. Plaza de la Mina is a beautiful small garden, with hundreds of years old ficus trees providing much welcomed shade from the sun and this plaza is also home to Cadiz prodigal son, the famous composer, Manuel de Falla, and his tomb could be found in the crypt of the Cathedral. Believe it or not, only after such short tour of the city, I was already drenched in perspiration, so rushed back to the hostel for a quick shower, grabbed my turtle shell and off to the next destination, Granada!

The Cathedral, nestled in the heart of this sleepy town, surrounded by lazily swaying palm trees...ahhh paradise.

View of the Mediterranean from the top of the Cathedral.

View of the coast hugging town from the top.

The monument at Plaza de la Mina.

AO Rating of Càdiz: Although I only stayed one night, I saw what I wanted and it’s one of those sleepy costal towns where if all you want to do is catch some waves, chill read a book and collect the Miss Dumbass title (oh wait, that was just me), then Càdiz will be your ideal getaway!

19.10.05

I arrived late the night before from Càdiz and so nothing much to report except that I checked in safely into the hostel. It was interesting (and scary to a degree) to walk around trying to find your hostel and realised that it was on a very dark dingy looking street. As you knocked on the bare wooden door, wondering whether it would collapse with each knock, you would also ponder as to what kind of rat hole have you got yourself into this time booking an accommodation such as this. Then when the door’s opened, you would be blown away by the modernly designed courtyard welcoming you into this establishment. You would be further astonished by the cleanliness and the freshly painted interior of the hostel. Yes ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Spain. I’m however going to contradict myself now by saying this. By this stage also, I had come to realise that Spanish people take a lot of pride in their image, i.e it is important for them to present their best to the others, at least on the surface anyway. As such, everything must always look good externally. Fresh paint, bright colours on the buildings, on people, bold coloured and expensive clothing, perfect make up and leather shoes with shiny belt buckles.

Granada is probably famous for lots of things but once again, I was only spending two nights there and my main interest in visiting Granada would have to experience viewing Spain’s most famous Moorish fortress, the Alhambra! (All-harm-bra). If not the grandest, it was certainly the largest of them all. Not only was it the royal Palace to the Nasrid Sultans during the 13th century, it was also an Alcazaba (military stronghold), Medina (inner city) and the Generalife (royal agricultural estate), all rolled into one. In terms of actual size area, it was larger than the Versailles in France and my 6 hours walk and over 100 photos would be proof of what was required to truly appreciate this historical grandeur! It was such a popular tourist attraction that the authorities have to limit the number of visitors per day to 6,000. This meant that people are often advised to book their tickets at least 2 days in advance to be able to frequent this historical site. Ironically, I took my chance and simply walked up to the fortress half expecting to be turned away but to my delight, I was able to get in without being trapped in one of the many horror 8 hour queue stories you hear about with places such as this. Let me give you a brief guided tour with some of the pictures I have taken. Exhausted after my titanic excursion for the day, I spent a quiet evening relaxing at the Britz Hostel after another night of delicious tapas and checking of emails.

View of the Alhambra walls in the midst of green hills.

What was left of the castle's residential housing plan.

View of the Cathedral from one of the towers in Alhambra.

Alhambra's famous monument of the 5 dogs and the Moorish styled castle roofs. You'll have to wait until I get home for the rest of the stupendous photos!

20.10.05

Goodness me, today marked exactly one month since I have departed the shores of New Zealand to explore the treasures of Europe, past and present. Time indeed flew when one was having fun! As I had a long bus ride ahead of me to Madrid, the little time in the morning I had, I spent exploring the city’s Cathedral. Shamefully its history and information I omit due to the rush (ok,ok so I lost the pamphlet on the church, can’t hide anything from you guys!). But hopefully a case of picture speaks louder than words…

Ok, since you've already seen the outside of the church, here's the inside. This is a very elaboratedly gilded pew located at the main altar.

AO Rating: If there is anything you can’t miss when visiting Granada, certainly that would be the Alhambra, Indeed the fortress is so impressive it would cause all sorts of harm to not only your bras, but guarantee to get your knickers into a knot!

Spanish Road Trip continues... remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

I was waiting at the Carmona central bus stop (not station, it’s a village remember?) waiting for the bus that would take me to Seville, which of course was my original first port of call in Spain. However, after being accidentally distracted by Carmona for 2 days, which then left me with only staying one night in Seville, which meant making the most of today.

So I arrived nice and early at the bust stop, around 9:30am but unfortunately, after waiting for almost an hour, the familiar city to village bus was still out of sight. As I was fighting my nagging worry that perhaps the bus driver decided on an early siesta, a lady arrived at the bus stop. She started talking to me in Spanish only of course to get blank and confused looks from me which did not in whatsoever way act as a deterrent to her enthusiastic and constant flow of chatters. Not long after she arrived, an older man, white hair, white beard and sunglasses ala Chips tv movie style appeared out of nowhere and began asking the lady something. She nodded fervently before turning to look enquiringly at me. I continue to perfect my blank confused looks at the two and eventually with lots of gesticulations and broken English from the man, I gathered he was offering to drive me and the lady to Seville for some money. Yes, like you, at this point, my spider sense was tingling all over with huge sirens ringing in my head..quick, say no my head commanded! Instead, I asked how much it would cost, the reply was same as what I would pay on the bus. In my defence, I want to say I did debate within myself for at least a full minute (ok, ok, 30 seconds..but ..that’s my final offer!) whether to accept his offer. On one hand, I reasoned that this lady and the guy could be scheming together in some secret Asian kidnapping syndicate, planning to sell me to the highest bidder in the black market. On the other hand, I was desperate to get to Seville to start my sightseeing, it was getting late and my faith in the public transportation in this part of Spain already diminished to an all time low..what was I to do?!

In the end, seeing another couple with a child nearby also waiting for us to join them made the decision for me. Nodding to the old guy, I put my bag in his ‘taxi’ (one of those 7 ppl movers) and soon to my relief, we sped off to Seville. My taking this high risk paid off as we got into Seville only 15 minutes later than when my originally intended bus was suppose to arrive. As you can see so far, things as I have planned could suddenly change at a drop of a hat, often requiring me to make a new plan or decision to accommodate the new circumstances of my travel and I must confess to be privately pleased about how I have been able to take these sudden changes of directions in my strides and managing to ‘go with the flow’, which I can assure you, is no small feat for control freak like me...SING IT..”donja wish your friends are tanned like me….donja wish your friends are freaks like me….donja…….dum da dum dad um…donja…” Sorry, I digress..

It took a bit of adjusting to getting back into the thick of a city scene after serenely strolling at a casually pace in Carmona. The first interesting sight that greeted me was when I was crossing the pedestrian crossing at a busy intersection in town. They have the usual ‘green man’ walking sign flashing when you’re suppose to cross..but in Seville, the greenman was also the action man, due to the timer placed on how long you have remaining before the man turns red. 15 seconds before the redman appeared, you see the green man starting to walk faster and by 10 seconds to go, he was slowly running but during the last 5 seconds countdown, you see Mr. Greenie doing a full sprint! Very entertaining..

I managed (this time) to book myself into a hostel gobsmackingly right in the centre of the city. A simple single room with a view of the busy street below. Interesting that even though the hostel was advertised in English and as an international hostel, none of the hostel staff speak any English, so once again, back to the good ol pointing, grunting and various facial expressions…I found muscles on my face I didn’t even know I could make twitch…ooooh, new party trick awaits you upon my return. Once the turtle shell had been dislodged, I was off to see my first Moorish influenced gothic church in Spain, the Catedral de Sevilla.

The Catedral was built by the Christians upon their reclaiming of Spain from the Moors in the 15th century and the old mosque was demolished and this church built. While politically defeated, the Moorish architectural influence remained potent as you can see from the pictures below. This cathedral definitely received my wow vote not only for its unique building style, but also for the granting of access to the top of its the skyscraping tower.

The insides of the church was equally impressive with the predominantly gothic style architecture and extensive use of gold gilding, high quality marbles and smooth and finely designed sculptures. To illustrate the gigantic size of this church, get this..there were at least 22 chapels not including the main altar and each of this chapel was at least a size of an average living room with high ceiling!

The piece de resistance of course was the long 428 step climb to the top of the tower, aka the 360 degree lookout point. Windy and long but certainly worth the effort as the view from the top simply picturesque and panoramic. Word of caution for those prone to stair-sickness. We advise you take caution (as well as a plastic bag) when ascending and descending.

The Cathedral de Sevilla and the magnificent Tower. Note the Moorish influence in its architecture.

View of the church from the tower's lookout point.

Enjoy the view of the city, just don't ask me to name that building with the beautiful dome.

Err, forgot to rotate this, so please rotate your head instead. This is one of the gilded altars in the church.

To date, I have met tens of Australians and only one Kiwi and while I was reflecting how there were fewer Kiwis travelling than I expected, I suddenly heard my name called which of course took me by surprise. I turned around and was even more flabbergasted to discover that it was Natalie and Ian, two friends I met 10 years ago in Christchurch when I first arrived in NZ and had not seen for literally 9 years, when they left Christchurch to go to London to do their Overseas Experience! Talking about a blast from the past! So there we were, 3 kiwis, shouting and screaming, group hugging one another and believe me, we were very very short of performing an impromptu haka! What an unbelievably small world, to meet friends you have lost touch with for the past 9 years, not in NZ but on a tower in Spain! Crazy!!

After spending a good amount of time catching up with my friends, I said my goodbyes to them and the church and head off to the next destination. Next to the Cathedral was the Garden of Murilo which is a big recreation park located at the heart of this city. It was a relaxing afternoon stroll through series of palm and timber trees, strategically planted to create a garden reminiscence of the Moorish Sultan’s palace garden of the 12th century. Soon after, I arrived at another of this city’s well known landmark, the Plaza Espana. I must concede my ignorance as to information regarding this beautiful square as I arrived there late in the evening where everything was shut and I was leaving the next morning, so I did not have much of a chance to find out what it was, but as you can see from the pictures taken, it is truly an impressive Moorish architecture with detailed and well selected use of ceramic tiles for the exterior of the walls of the building. Truly amazing.

Garden of Murilo with its colourful ceramic tiled seats

Tada!! Plaza de Espana!

On the bridge at the front of the main building.

One of the building's Moorish design towers, simply stunning!

During my stay in Seville, I met Robert Kaesmacher, a German psychologist based in Almeria (another southern coastal town of Spain) who was also on holiday in Seville. His surname meant Cheesemaker, while he may or may not have inherited his ancestor’s trade, he definitely was a charming man and with his help in Spanish, I manage to learn a lot more about the city and how ask for important things in Spain, like “Donde Asseo?” and “Uno café con leche perfavor!”, respectively “where’s the toilet” and “a cup of coffee (with milk) please!” Also helpful to learn is the phrase “Luciento!” which is sorry and believe me, it gets you out of every imaginable miscommunication problem with the locals!

Robert took me to a typical café the next morning to sample a typical Spanish breakfast which incidentally, he explained, are not big breakfast eaters. So often it’s a steaming cup of coffee with either sweet pastries like chocolate croissants or a plain bun or a bun with cheese and ham for the Latinos and Latinas with bigger appetites. Then we said goodbyes and I hopped on the bus to experience my first coastal Spanish town, Càdiz!

AO Rating of Seville: A pity I only had one night in Seville but certainly impressed with what I saw of this capital of Andulusia. Best thing, the hot humid weather (in late autumn!). Worst thing: Perhaps lack of tourist friendly signs and descriptions on monuments, places and things. Hasta pronto! (See you soon!)

Olé, Olé, Olé..feeling HOT HOT HOT! remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

600 years after Columbus sailed to China to visit my ancestors, I decided to return the favour. A bit of background history on Spain is necessary I think in order for one to appreciate the beauty of the country and the culture of its proud citizens. Around 400AD, Romanic Hispania was overrun by German tribes before the the Moors (Muslims from North Africa) conquered Spain in 700AD and for the next 700 years under their rule, Islamic Spain (known then as Al-Andalus) prospered in the arts and science. The Christians laid seige on the country again by end of 14th century and under Queen Isabel and King Fernando who united spain under a catholic rule (the Spanish Inquisition revived), they laid the foundation for Spain´s golden age of world exploration, discovery of new colonies and spreading of imperialism in the guise of religious salvation.

To see all of Spain, I would probably need a month, which unfortunately is a luxury I cannot afford. As we´re heading into winter in Europe, I decided the best region of Spain to visit this time of the year would be the south, known as the Andulusia, where sun worshippers continue to soak up the rays right to December, where they could possibly catch the chill, after all, it can be as cold as 25 degrees! Your eyes are not playing tricks on you and it´s no typo on my behalf. I was about to discover just how potent the influence that the Moorish had over Spain.

Carmona

Car-whaa?! Exactly my response too when I first discovered that the hostel I´ve booked when googling under ´hostel in Seville (original destination)´ turned out to be located in this small Spanish town 25km northwest of Seville. As it is customary with all hostel bookings via the internet, if you simply don´t show up on the night booked, they reserved the right to charge you at least one night´s accomodation. As you can imagine what foul mood I was in when I discovered that in addition to having to spend a night so far away from the city I originally wanted to see, I also had to spend at least an hour and a half´s travel over two different busses to get there.

Upon disembarking from the plane, my first impression of Spain is it was hot!! I mean it was 5 in the evening and it would have easily been 32 degrees with 110% humidity! The weather made it that much easier for me to sit seething with fury in the bus all the way to Carmona, carefully planning all the nasty things I was going to say to the hostel staff for their underhand manipulation of the sacred google search in dragging me into their town! Of course I realised there would be a 99% guarantee that none of them would be able to understand a word I said as unlike most of its neighbours, Spanish people only speak Spanish, not because they refuse too (like the French) but because they really didn´t know a single word in English, even in most frequented tourist places like airports, train stations, hostels and restaurants. Understand me or not, I was going to make sure that they would be made aware that despite my booking of 2 nights accomodation with them, I would leave as early as possible after a night to go back to Seville where I originally intended to go.

As we headed away from Seville and into a desert area where as far as the eyes can see, there´s nothing but khaki coloured powder of dust. This of course did nothing but strengthen my resolve and opinion that I have been duped to spend an evening in the middle of no where and wasting a valuable travelling day. To make the day worst, of course I had no idea exactly where to get off the bus as I doubt very much there would be a huge sign up saying ´Welcome to Carmona, Paradise for Dumb Tourists´. So I had to rely on the good ol sign language in imploring on the assistance of the locals as to whether each stop we came to was the one I was meant to get off. Remarkably, the day´s saving grace so far was the friendliness and helpfulness of the local Spanish people who despite my frantic gesticulations and pathetic attempt at their language, were determined to help and their constant yelling NO at me each time the bus came to a stop and I looked like I was going to disembark paid off finally when we reached the town and they finally consented to my getting off, I smiled gratefully as I dragged my turtle shell and walked towards the town.

The first sight that greeted me was this imposing brick fortress, which I later learnt was the Fortress of the Gate to Seville. As you will see from the pictures later how impressive this building was. A few steps further I came across the Church of San Pedro, the town´s main worship centre. As I walked further, small Spanish kids chasing one another came to a sudden halt with a puzzled look on their faces as they came face to face with a ´China´with my enormous backpack, they probably thought I was a middleage mutant ninja turtle. Soon their faces of awe turned to that of warmth and friendliness as they called out shyly, giggling before resuming their game of ´cops and robbers´. A few more churches and old Moorish buildings went by before I arrived at the Palacio Marquess de la Torres (translate to Mansion of the Mayor of the Town), which it might have been hundreds of years ago but today, it was where I was about spend the night...and at that moment, I decided, the night after as well. Well, there were plenty to see obviously but also I had a travellers intuition that my education, experience and exposure to Spanish life and history couldn´t get off to a better start than to enter into the heart of Andulusia (what southern region of Spain is called )where you can clearly hear and feel the pulsating heartbeats of its people through the inhabitants of the small cosy Carmona.

By the time I found the Palacio, I was pretty much delighted with my 'accidental' visit to this town and was pretty much looking forward to my stay. This sentiment was further improved by being greeted by Sara, the hostel manager who speaks reasonably good English! She was so helpful as to settling me in and suggesting places to go for great Spanish food and where to visit etc. As she was a local, her suggestions and advice were truly appreciated. The hostel is very bright and sunny, clean and you can smell a mix of wonderful flowers growing in the garden and the pine wood which formed part of the foundation of the hostel. My room was actually a dorm of 4 beds but since it wasn't busy (can't imagine it ever being busy in Carmona), I had the entire dorm room to myself for a 20 Euros per night, excellent!

After settling in, I caught up with Sara explaining how I was getting hungry which she found surprising as the Spanish have lunch like 3pm after their afternoon siesta (nap) and often don't have dinner until like 9:30 or 10pm and it was only 7pm and Sarah was worried that many places may not be opened yet! Incredible..however, upon my indication to try the local food, she suggested a great cafe to sample the 'tapas' which is a form of Spanish ´dim sum´if you like, often made up of small dishes like potatoes in some sort of sauce or another, beef in tomato sauce or a plate of fried squid or fish, each only costing like 2 Euros. With prices like that, I was more than happy to sample this local cuisine and so I head off and to my delight, these small plates of food were as delicious (and affordable) as Sara suggested.

Another thing I found in Carmona (and confirmed in other parts of Spain later) that their ordinary cup of coffee here costing 1 Euro per cup is pretty much equivallent to the best coffee you can find anyhere in NZ. Serioiusly people, if you're a coffee lover, Spain is where you want to be. They make Starbucks coffee taste as exciting as mudwater, and at the price you pay there, why would you want to go there??!

Over a cup of this aromatic strong coffee and serenaded by the Spanish music (which you can easily recognise with the strong accompanying of feverish stringing of the guitar to a Spanish singer's crooning), I set down to plan my next day's journey in Carmona. Strolling home after dinner was interesting as it gave me a taste of what the Spanish are on the road..

It is hard to describe except to say, imagine this: Really small narrow roads (width of a car, literally!), with cars and small but annoyingly loud scooters) tearing down at neck breaking speed, threatening to run over anything in their ways, tooting and shouting obscenities or greetings to other fellow villagers, all very hectic and rather out of place really for a small quaint town such as Carmona where you almost expect everyone to be asleep by 10pm. Ahh but my friend, this is Spain...where the nightlife (even in small towns) do not begin until at least from midnight onwards. Anyhow, I would strongly advise anyone from investing in setting up a motor vehicle insurance company in Spain..you'll find yourself bankrupt almost as quickly you get run over on the street.

The other interesting thing I noticed during my evening walk was how the Spanish loved to dress up. Be it adults, teenagers or even children as young as 7 or 8, at night, they're in their best clothing, almost every girl is done up like they're trying to win the Prom Queen.

When I got back to the hostel, Sara was still there working away but was happy to stop for a quick break while we chatted and became quick friends. She's the loveliest person and like many Spanish women, possess the Latina beauty in abundance. As you can see from our pictures below, I'm but a sorry thorn beside this Hispanic rose.

Sarah & me in the garden of the Palacio.

15.10.2005

Under Sara's great guidance, I was able to see all the interesting parts of Carmona in one day. I'll let the pictures do the talking aye?

View of the Church of San Pedro. The tower is a replica of the beautiful tower of the Cathedral of Seville as I later discovered.

This is the famous Alcazar de la Puerta de Seville, the fortress that greeted me the first day I arrived in Carmona. This fortress initially built before the Romans conquered Spain was so difficult to penetrate that Alexander the Great even mentioned it in his war journals, describing its invincibility. Of course, they did eventually penetrate it and ruled it until they were defeated by the Moorish who then extended it to what it resemble today. Very impressive..

The day I toured around Carmona, was a Saturday which Sara informed me is the favourite day for the Spanish to get married, which probably explained why I came across like 6 weddings just in the village alone that day! This one held at the San Pedro church showed the wedding car with cactus tied at the end of the car. Sara said that this is typical of the Spanish to play some sort of crazy joke on a friend's wedding day. It could be worst I guess...

One of the many fortress gates that guard the city. This one is located in the south. Very beautifully reflected by the evening sun.

A typical architecture for a house in Spain, even in the colour white, which is used more prominently in the centre of town or villages. Sara was helpful to point out that this feature, together with the fact that most Spanish homes have two front doors, with the outer one constantly left open to let in the sun as the Spanish believe that it is a blessing to have the sun shine on, and into the house, hence the white colour exterior to reflect the brightness of the house and the opening of the outer front door. Another common feature in Spanish homes are elaborate looking courtyard, almost like NZ'ers and their gardens. Often there's a fountain in the centre and lots of plants adorning it..a place for rest and siesta I guess!

There were many photos I took which I will share with you back home. Suffice to say, it was a great day spent in the sun in Carmona. You will see while I'm in Spain, I'm getting more and more tanned under their beautiful sun. Already today it was something like 29 degrees! Oh, I wish I packed more shorts and singlets!

In the evening, I took another opportunity to walk around the city at night, enjoying the fiesta atmosphere of the locals. I found even when they don't understand a single word or gesture I threw at them and where this would frustrate even the most patient of locals, it did not in anyway hinder the very very friendly and helpful locals in trying to assist me or understand and fulfil my every needs. They really know how to make you feel welcomed. I am lucky that my first visit to Spain have been in Carmona.

It is rare enough even in large Spanish cities to spot Asians but in Carmona, I might as well be a 3 headed Alien that just landed from Venus and from my poor Spanish language skills, I could have very well been asking the locals to take me to their leaders when asking for a cup of coffee. So boy was I gawked and stared at but in a good way I guess. The Spanish men all thought I was this exotic creature as they chanted 'China chica!!' (Chinese babe) whenever I walked past, some tried to talk to me, others were just happy to wolfwhistle. Mind you, I can assure you that I don't think it's because I'm beautiful, but like I said, novelty can make even the plainest of birds seem like a peacock, no? I will admit though to being quite flattered by all this attention, except when I was walking past this small bar. One of the Spanish men in a group of about 12 shouted 'China Chica!' and all his mates turned around and they all started shouting and yelling for me to come join them. A few of them were even starting to approach me. Like the rabbit that I am, I scampered away quickly into the safety of the dark night.

AO Rating: They say that first impressions last..and Carmona while not originally part of my destinations have indeed proved to be a great introduction to what Spain is...the warmth, from the sun and also from the hospitality of its people, the boldness in terms of the colour of the city, the people and their clothing and the fact that I wished I have learnt at least some Spanish before coming here!

Next, I am off to Seville! Buenos noches! (Good night!)

Sunny Shangrila Spain! Hola!!!! remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

While Prague is famous for its 1001 castles, Vienna meanwhile certainly claims the title to the City of Museums with a modest number of 73 (and counting apparently). These museums range from history of Austria, to that of music, art, culture and even psychology. There's even museums of globes, horse carriages and silverware. This city was also the home of Mozart, Sigmund Freud and Johann Strauss!

Perhaps having such infamous residents prompted the city of Vienna to feel justified in charging the arms and legs for everything. Of course it is not as expensive as London and Paris, but then again, you don't expect Vienna to be in the same league as London and Paris right? Well, that's what I thought before I launched the Chino-Austrian Invasion...but my impression was about to change..

Originally, I couldn't find hostels (at prices that won't make me yell "daylight robbery!")in the city and was contemplating setting up base in good ol cheapo Bratislava and commuting by train each day to Vienna which only takes an hour each way. Interesting fact too about Vienna is that unlike the other cities I've visited so far, most of the hostels are not located within the inner city. The closest ones are like 25 minutes walk or so away. Luckily their metro service is super efficient (and free because they don't have a turn-stile for you to insert your metro tickets to access the train).

Gheri (Italian friend that I was hanging out with in Bratislava) came with me to check out Vienna before flying back to Milan. So we set out really early in the morning to catch the train. It was a bit of a rush, we had to run...of course I was accustomed to this chaos (cut out your knowing looks or I'll take you off my x'mas card list!) but poor Gheri had to run twice as fast to keep up with my long strides (I'm sure he'd taken me off his x'mas card list *sigh*)

We made it into the train with 3 minutes to spare, plenty of time from my perspective, which of course wasn´t shared by the panting Gheri judging from the many dagger looks he threw me.

We decided upon arrival at the train station that we would head straight into the heart of the city, where the city´s main cathedral (yes, there´s a few of them), St Stephen was located. Upon emerging from the underground metro station, we were greeted by men dressed in old costumes of the 17th century complete with the wigs resembling many faces of Mozart, tall and short, black and white, fat and thin..all interested only in one thing, to sell you tickets to concerts playing Mozart music in several famous venues in the city. ´Come and listen to Mozart music at zis famous opera house, rumoured to be Mozart´s most favourite venue because the hostess constantly wore dressesz zat are not able to contain her bossoms´ quipped the tall Mozart..´No,no, zis opera house zis better, definitely Mozart´s favourite because he spent many hours writing his music there after hours of lovemaking with ze hostess´ retorted the fat Mozart not to be outdone and so it went on..I wasn´t sure if I was more interested in Mozart´s music as much as I was as to how they came to be written!

We quickly sought refuge from these costumed predators by entering into the Cathedral. This grand church of course has amazing looking pipe organs, statues and gothic style gilded altars but this is where I have to confess something to you. In a continent like Europe where every city in every country while are very different in many ways, they are also similar in the sharing of history, architecture and design of the cities. What was initially impressive when viewing cathedrals, the murals, painting on the ceilings, monuments and statues and museums unfortunately, it has now failed to generate my ´WOW´factor due to the saturation and over exposure on a constant basis to what seemed like repeated pattern of sights and scenes. A case of easy come and easy go I guess. Similarly I am sure if Vienna was the first European city I visited, I would have been blown away by the St Stephen Cathedral. Yet, it is with great shame and pity that I admit to the feeling of nonchalance and indifference upon seeing the inside of this magnificent church. It´s like going to watch the movie Titanic..sure, you have heard how great it is and how grand the ship was..but eventually, you also know what to expect..that the shp would sink..so it is like that too walking into a cathedral..you come to expect to see huge pipe organs, paintings on the ceilings and stained glass windows, statutes and altars, and sure enough, that´s what you would see.

However, having said that, sometimes there could be a slight twist to the story that you didn´t expect, like access to the cathedral´s tower to view the city and as such, I was delighted to find my unexpected south tower of the St Stephen´s cathedral and to be rewarded with the magnificent view of the city.

St Stephen from the outside, not my best shot due to having stave off the many Mozarts shoving concert tickets at me.

view of the city from the Catherdral's tower. Mental note: Don't need help of sun to emphasise my squinty eyes.

After leaving the Cathedral, Gheri sensing that time was his enemy, suddenly turned into Mussolini as he grabbed the map and took charge of our sightseeing. With purposeful, albeit short quick strides, he directed us through some of the city´s famous landmarks as you can see from the photos below in warp speed.

Yours truly in front of one of the 4 quarters of the Museumquarter, a big complex housing cluster of museums!

Outside the Parliament house and yes, I'm sure this is Vienna and not Rome or Greece!

The picture does no justice to this amazingly huge city hall with its gothic design. It's at least the size of Notre Dame and West Minister abbey. You have to see it to believe it! By far the most impressive building in Vienna for me!

After Gheri´s departure, I launched my recon mission to investigate whether I would be able to stay in Vienna or be discovering the city in-exile from Bratislava. As mentioned earlier, the cloesest series of hostels are at least 25 mins walk from the city centre and so I walked quite a bit that day, especially when the first 5 hostels I visited announced that they were fully booked. You could understand my pessimism then when walking into the 6th expecting the same result but to my delight, not only did I manage to book my accomodation without having to declare bankruptcy, but it turned out to be the best hostel of the lot too, in terms of cleanliness (which is a must for me) and the friendly atmosphere.

With my accomodation sorted for the next few days, I happily called it a day and returned to Bratislava, trying hard to hide my smug smiles from the tired looking commuters in the train on the way back.

11.10.2005

Not sure if you remember the New Yorker guy I met in Prague, Ron (see my Prague story with pics), but he was also going to be in Vienna around the same time and we agreed that we would join forces to explore the city. We figured with his New Yorker attitude of wanting things done yesterday and his travel bible of the ´Top Ten Must-Sees´ checklist and my super planning and economically efficient skills (did you just call me a tight ass?!), Vienna wouldn´t stand a chance!

So this morning, after receiving top-secret communication from Agent Loud-mouth to rendezvous at 10:00 hours at the Nasch Markt for breakfast before making our way to the Schonbrunn Palace (both in the top ten checklists), I made my way there already planning on briefing Ron about the most efficient way of getting to the Palace and the best route to take for our sightseeing in order to maximise the time we had and what we could see and coordinating this with the opening times, lunch and toilet breaks. Told you I´m good! Yes, I have allocated a generous 5 minute discrepancy at each stop to allow for any unexpected delays, like another attack of the Mozart Army or unexpected obstacles in our planned routes, in the form of our familiar foes, the notorious...Japanese tourists, ta da dem!!

The Nasch Markt was like a Sunday market but operates on a daily basis, selling variety of things ranging from food, drinks to handbags, shoes, fruits and vegetables and touristic ornaments. Upon completion of briefing on tour de jour, and dangerously armed with a tummy full of pastries and coffee, we made our way by metro to the Schonbrunn Palace.

The Palace, once the summer residence to the Habsburg royal family (get off your lazy ass and go read on the history of Austria!) was indeed magnificent but once again, it did not procure my wow reaction due to my earlier visit to a more grandeur palaces, like the Versailles in France. The Schonbrunn was similar but smaller in size, stature and complexity, still a sight to enjoy indeed for its own unique history and symbolic representation to the city.

The ´twist´to this story was this ´galleria´located on a hill facing the southern part of the palace. It is simply a building acting as a lookout point from which you can view the palace and the city beyond it. Quite enchanting really.

After many hours of walking and proclaiming the day to be a victory for the Dynamic Duo, we celerated with having a simple dinner before we parted, Ron to go to one of the many Mozart concerts (sucker!!) and I, returning back to the hostel for a much needed rest. Spent the most entertaining evening mingling with my fellow travellers at the hostel. Unless you´re a backpacking traveller yourself, it is hard to explain the comarade that one shares with fellow backpackers. It is like nomads coming together and resting at an oasis after the end of a long day of travel, sitting by the camp fire, trading antidotes of one´s journey, giving of valuable travelling advice and helpful suggestions and tips on the many hidden gems and the roads not taken. Similarly for us, as the night aged and the stars burnt brighter, the laughters grew louder, the stories took wilder turns, and the pile of paper napkins with email addresses written got higher as bonds of friendship were formed, and for some, renewed. Oh what a night....

12.10.2005

Today´s mission as we laid it out over chocolate croissants (yes Kevin, it´s not French for donuts!) and several cups of coffee, were to invade the Belvadere Castle, former home to Austria´s most successful army general during the expansion of the Austrian empire, so successful was this guy who for the life of me, can't remember his name, (name schmame!) that he was made a duke. Also included in today´s itinerary was to see the Karlskir Museum (one of the many arts museum that´s not part of the Museumquarter), Wien Museum (History of Vienna museum) and a quick look at the Staatoper (State Opera house).

The Belvadere castle as you can see is quite pretty but it wasn´t for its architecture that held us spellbound but for what the treasures within the castle. Divided into upper and lower Belvadere, the former displayed Medieval paintings and most of the famous works by Klimt. I had to drag Ron out of that place in order to keep up with our schedule, I mean he already used up the 15 minutes discrepancy time by that stage due to his obsession with his favourite artist. The latter, the lower Belvadere, exhibited the impressive rooms of the castle together with exclusive paintings of its former famous resident and the Halsburg royal family.

In front of the Belvadere Castle. If you have not noticed yet by now, yes I have lost a bit of weight. Don't rush off to send food aid parcles just yet, trust me, my hurricane appetite still rivals that of the ones hitting Louisiana, but the weight loss was due more to the many hours spent walking..maybe I can bottle this as the next diet craze!

We then made our way to Karlskir musum which was more impressive to me in terms of how the building looked whereas Ron was more keen to see the art museum inside. So he went inside while I took pictures on the outside and decided to go to a nearby grocery store to buy some lunch. Here´s an interesting fact. Do you know that in most German supermarkets, you are expected to weigh all your fruit and vegetables, get a price printout and stick it to your items before presenting them at the counter. As this is different to how we buy our produce in NZ, you can understand my embarassment when I was told in German of course of my mistake. Luckilly, another shopper with bilingual expertise then came to my rescue and I returned later, with the price printout tag and a very red face.

The majestic Kalskir Museum..

The rest of the day went more smoothly with our visits to the Vien Museum and Staatopera. To further our culinary education on foreign food, Ron and I decided to give Brawhurst a go. This is an Austrian hot dog, but apparently, America is not the only place they do everything big. I mean this is no snack guys..it´s a meal and then some...the picture is not doing it justice, I dunno what Brawhurst translates to in English but as far as I´m concerned, the translation might as well be King of Sausages..won´t you say so if you are confronted with a 10 inch? I must say, I was very satisfied....referring to my hunger! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Mama Mia!!

Actually, let´s talk about sex baby..let´s talk about Vienna and me..during the evening, as I was walking back to my hostel, gallivanting through the infamous shopping street of Maria Heifstraße, a massive white building with bright coloured flashing neon lights grabbed my attention and in bold bright red lights, it flashed ´SEX SHOP´. Not sure if you share my sentiment, but I can assure you that this kind of shop isn´t exactly what I would normally have in mind when thinking of a shopping spree, especially in NZ, where such shops are tucked in some dodgy corner of a badly lit street and you can almost guarantee the seedy and secretive atmosphere that lingered inside such shops, making them another object of taboo. However, here in liberal Europe, a sex shop is no different to any other shops, viewed perhaps in a more healthy manner as a shop you would go buy all things associated with sex, as you would go to Mitre 10 if you want to look for tools associated with DIY´s and other house projects.

Similarly, the Europeans very much encourage one to visit such shops to assist in any DIY disasters of a more personal kind...ahem. Seriously, the openness in which you can browse through sex aids, dvds and battery powered oscilliating pulsating devices are amazing. They were boldly displayed in an orderly fashion as if they were nothing but a packet of biscuits. Indeed, they even provided small carrying baskets and trolleys for your shopping convenience. You can see couples walking around, looking through the items or shifty men shifting through the latest dvds as they chucked one after the other into the trolleys. I felt like I have learnt so much tonight and as I was leaving, I almost expected a bright neon sign of ´Thank you and come again´to flash at me.

13.10.2005

My last day in Vienna was dedicated to seeing the remaining of the top tens in Vienna. First stop was the Museumplatz (Museumquarter which I have already briefly saw from the outside the other day). Again, after the Louvre in France, I was hardly excited by the prospect of these museum complexes.

The next venue was more exciting, the Hofsburg Palace, which was once the winter residence of the Habsburgs. Now it has become museums showing, amongst many things, the former living quarters of the royal family.

The more interesting section of the Hofsburg Palace for me was the museum dedicated to the life of Empress Elizabeth ´Sisi´wife of Franz Joseph III, beloved monarch of the people (think Eva Peron of Argentina or Princess Di). As you guys know, I´m a sucker for romance and so you can imagine how much time I spent in this museum finding out that Empress Sisi who was born a free spirit and an independent woman of her time and as a teenager, she was about to venture off on her travels when fate intervened during her visit with her cousin girl to see Emperor Franz Joseph. Although Franz Joseph´s mother had intended for him to marry Sisi´s cousin, he instead fell in love with Sisi and was determined to marry her instead. Of course, who was she to say no and so they were married when she was just shy of her 17th birtday. It is safe to say she did not enjoy her married life as much as he did, choosing to spend most of her time abroad travelling before she was unceremoniously assassinated by an Italian anti-monarch figure. If you have not picked up the similarities yet, then I can confirm that I share Sisi´s sentiments and free sprits and I´m just glad that I´m not living in the days when a woman´s worth is measured by the loudness of her husband (or father´s) belch!

Interesting too to see how this woman was so dedicated to looking beautiful. We were shown how she would wear special leather masks dipped in cow's blood to sleep each night, apparently meant to rejuvenate her face. I think this is one beauty regime I would skip! She also had like gymnastics apparatus in her chamber so she could do all these exercises to stay trim, now that I can do!

Another section of the palace has now been turned into a Spanish horse training school. Unfortunately for me (and for Kelly back home who wanted more pictures of horses), on the day of my visit, we just missed the morning training session and there were no horse shows. Don´t worry Kelly, Ron shares your bitter disappointment too. I did take some horsey pics for you as a consolation though, although of a different kind..

There ya go Kelly! This is outside the palace.

Outside the palace building, note the many statues..very nice!

One of the many group of statues adorning the sides of the palace.

Next, we visited the Maria Theresa twin buildings. She was one of the most powerful Empress of Austria during the empire´s expansion of power in the 18th and 19th century. The buildings are impressive as you can see and they are now museums as well. We spent a good one hour going through the Kunsthistor Museum, a mueum of natural history.

One of the twin buildings..

Gigantic statue of Empress Maria Theresa and lil ol me!

From there, we caught the metro to the West side of town to see the 'Hundertwasserhaus' buildings. A case of a picture is worth a 1000 words so I'll let one of them speak for itself..

It's a special design using various colours to display the unasymetrical breaks in the design..it's like that famous toilet in that small town in NZ..can't remember which town now but you know the one..

And with that last act, the curtain came down on my visit to Vienna as I would be catching the night train from here to Munich and then flying from there (on a cheap flight) into Seville, Spain.

AO Rating: A city of museums living up to its name for sure. While it did not secure as many wow factors as when I visited London or Paris, I believe this was more due to the order of my visit and the fading of the novelty factor as opposed to the finding the city lacking in what it has to offer. Vienna, where the hills are alive with the Sound of Music, also gives you the impression that its former glory is also very much still well and alive, perhaps the many Mozarts haunting the city streets may have something to do with that...¨So long...farewell, Auf Widersen...¨

The Hills are aliveeeeeeeeeee remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Anyway...Bratislava, capital of Slovakia was certainly not part of the cities I planned to visit but once again, due to the flexibility (to a certain extent) of my itinerary, I was able to go there to catch up with my Italian friend and amateur journalist, Gheri who was taking pictures and reporting on the Slovak International Badminton tournament. This is a city famous for its cheap beers (hence, famous amongst the Europeans as Stag do capital of Europe) and Ladas...as common as Holden would be in NZ. As I was neither here to induldge in drunken frenzy or box car collectibles, I used this visit as a pit stop and to catch my breath after 3 weeks whirlwind of flights, sights, travels and castles...What I've done and learnt so far:

1. Spent 915€ (about 48.5€ per day which is still in accordance with my budget, so that's good)

2. Been to 6 cities in 6 countries. It gets to a point, where you are constantly struggling to remember the correct greetings, thank yous and excuse me..e.g even in simply saying yes.."ya...ya" in Amsterdam and Germany to "oui, d'accord" to "yes" in London, to "ya, ya" again in Prague and Bratislava (and now "si..si" in Spain).

3. Saw lots of "WC"..never sure what they stands for..perhaps "Wee Centre". The Toilet papers are not flash either and I have a bum rash to prove it!! *blush*

4. If I hear another "Konichiwa" from an European man trying to flirt me with me, I will be tempted to buy a samurai sword and perform a harakiri on their genitalias...For you kiwis, it's like someone mistaking you for an Aussies...sort of.

5. Pedestrian crossings mean absolutely nothing except marking of white stripe lines on the road. Constant health hazard walking around the cities in Europe I tell you! Also, for us who drive in the "CORRECT" side of the road, i.e left side, it's very disorientating to also have to remember to walk on the right hand side when in Europe or otherwise, you get glares and cyclists shouting obscenities at you!

6. Smokin Europe Batman!! If one thing I don't like about Europe is that it's hard to find a sniff of fresh air anywhere, especially when trying to enjoy your food in a restaurant. I mean I like my smoked salmon like anyone else, but reallllllllly!!! Also, if you book a non-smoking seat on a train to somewhere, that just means you'll be sitting like 3 seats away from the smoking session. What the hell??!

7. As you travel more towards the eastern side of Europe with a Malaysian passport which is as rarely seen in Europe as a non-smoking European, then be prepared to have your passport passed around amongst the borders policemen on trains etc.

8. Seen great t-shirts worn by tourists so far! The Top 2 has to be:
(a) "Life is Sexually Transmitted" and
(b) "People who are constipated don't give a shit"

9. Japanese tourists. Enough said. Oh and also, you see a LOT of Australians around too.."ya maaattte, the beer heeere so cheap maaate!"

10. You're suppose to pay for your subway tickets before getting on the trains but as there's no actual ticket machine for you to swipe your ticket through in order to get to the trains, i.e you can just walk through, no one really pays for their subway rides..except in France. They're too elegant to resolve to anything underhand like zees!

11. Never...Ever...get on a cab in Prague...not only ridiculously expensive and overcharged, but the fact that they are run by corrupted mafias..well, could indeed be the ride of your life or rather, the last ride of your life.

12. You constantly get paranoid when trying to speak to a local in his/her native tongue as you think they probably understand English but are secretly laughing at your pathetic attempt at their language.

13. Trust your map more than an a local giving you directions who would often tell you "right" or "left" without specifying that you actually need to take the 3rd right and then the 2nd left etc.

14. The coffee in cafes here taste sooo good that they make Starbucks coffee taste like mud water.

15. And I can now fully confirmed with 100% certainty that indeed on this side of the hemisphere, the water does flush to the opposite direction!

There's more but I'll save some for when I get back. I'll report on Vienna and Spain soon. Until then, hasta la uego (how it sounds, not spelled), meaning see you later.

Bratislava - Bars, piss and ladas remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

God bless Easyjet company and their cheap flights! The only time when I was glad to spend the pound sterling came when paying 54 pounds for my flight from London to Prague.

Prague was originally founded by the Romans but it wasn't until 14th century that it flourished under the Czech ruler, Charles IV. It was my first experience seeing a city that has both the western influence in the form of medival, roman, gothic and baroque style and also the european eastern communist dull square box style about the place, and you can often spot this difference especially in the architecture of the city's buildings.

I checked into my hostel and you must forgive me for having the first impression that Czech people are not the most creative. This impression is derived from my hostel's name, wait for it...Traveller's Hostel. Uh huh..told you so. This however is where the drawback of the place is limited to. Great helpful staff, wonderfully clean and spacious room and amenities all make this place a home away from home, which came as a relief I must say after how I've been spoilt for accomodation in terms of staying with friends in the last 3 of the 4 cities I've visted.

As I sauntered around the main town centre, only a few minutes walk from my hostel, trying to get a feel for this magical city, I noticed that the inhabitants of the city were made up of the serious morose looking elderly folks, the hard faced business people in their cold black suits and carefree bubblegum popping youngsters with their ipod mini and smarting hip hop fashion wear...not too dissimilar really to elsewhere in the world but perhaps the more depressing looking post-communist infra structure of the city somehow gave it that tired look. However, if you could look past the depleted dusty exterior, you will discover the time before the hardship, when the ancient castles and towers sparkle like jewels across the Baltic sea.

6th October

This morning I decided to join yet another walking tour given my past success and enjoyment of them. This time I found a bargain! 7 hours worth of guided tour through Prague plus a ferry trip and a complimentary night walking tour thrown in..but wait! There's more!! (Always more!) We would also get a complimentary lunch in one of Prague's oldest restaurant serving a range of local cuisine.All this for 30 Euros (which is NZ60 but you're not suppose to convert..so imagine if it's like NZ30 for all this!) I must sheepishly admit that due to my trademark tardiness, I almost didn't turn up in time for the start of the tour but made it in the nick of time, pheew!

We met at the centre of the city, the Old Town Square. Our guide's name escaped me because I got there after he introduced himself. So for the sake of this tour, let's just call him Stalin (if he ever reads this, he'll kill me, you'll see why later). He was a short mid 30'ish guy with a big umbrella, that doubles as a pointer and walking stick. His English of course had a thick Czech accent and it could take a while to understand him. Anyhow, he began by informing us that Prague is divided mainly into four sections, the old town, which includes the old jewish quarter, the new town, the lesser town and the Prague castle vicinity. The lesser town and the Prague castle vicinity are separated with the other two sections mainly by the Vladava river and they are linked across this river by the infamous Charles Bridge, named after its popular ruler, Charles IV. I didn't know whether Stalin was just not a morning person or he was just plain dull and dry...perhaps both but I remembered thinking to my self, oh boy, this is going to be a long day.

Church of the St Nicholas (one of two!) built in 18th century located at the Old Town Square.

Here horsey, horsey, horsey...one of the many tourist trappings located at the square.

We were taken around the square and stopped by this door you see above. The picture isn't very clear but if you look at the top of the arc, you are meant to see a very 'happy face' on the top left, a very 'sad face' on the top right and slightly to the bottom in between the two faces, you'll see a very menacing looking face with sharp pointy teeth. Stalin explained that it is tradition for Czechs getting married at this St Nicholas church to enter through the door on the left to this one and once they're proclaimed husband and wife, they would exit the church through this door. The significance of exiting through this door? Well, the 'happy face' symbolises the bride, who's happy she's finally married. As you would guess by now, the face on the right would be that of the groom who's miserable being tied to the ball and chains. The scary face in the middle would be none other than 'the mother in law'! :P

Then we went past the jewish quarter and I took some photographs but I'll save those for later viewing. We then came to halt in front of this building where Stalin explained that it is typical in Prague in the 15th century for houses to be built with keyhole shaped windows in them.

See top left - hate to see the size of the keys!

We then made our way past 2 Japanese tourist groups, Stalin carefully making sure that I didn't get caught in the tidal wave of the rising sun and disappear into an obscure sushi parlour at the back of some darkly lit street.

We then arrived at this:

Yeah..wow alright!

One of the most impressive gothic sacral building in Prague with the construction of which lasted from the mid-14th century to early 16th century but due to some religious upheavals as a result of which, Prague became the fist Prostestant city in Europe, the interior of the church was never finished and it wasn't until the late 17th century that the interior was rebuilt in baroque style upon the return of catholism in Prague.

We then walked down to the pier to our awaiting ferry and its lovely staff greeting us with the Czech greeting of "Ahoj!" (pronounced Ahoy!), meaning Greetings, or hi! The boat trip was very pleasant indeed going up and down Vladava river listening to Stalin rattling on and on about how communism has ruined his country. He would point to some gothic style building on the right and said "And you see, how beautiful this building is? Now look to your left and see that ugly box? That my friend is communism!" And this was the theme for a while before we sailed past a big old sports complex, so then Stalin got all excited again as he started to lecture about the great Czech tennis players who had to flee the country when the communists took over and how that destroyed the country too. Dunno if it was the complimentary budzar (Czech beer) or simply being in good mood due to the beautiful sceneries but I found Stalin's monotonous whining about communism rather funny and entertaining.

Soon after, to everyone else's delight, Stalin's thirst got the better of him and he went off to enjoy a glass of beer, leaving the rest of us to ponder in our own thoughts as we continue the water journey accompanied by classical music. Ahh...bliss...

We disembarked from the ferry and continued our journey by making our way to Charles Bridge. The imposing arc greets you as you approach the bridge. This arc was built in the late 15th century and later used as a gun depot.

Prague's Arc de triumph! :P

Then we met the man himself, Charlie boy IV!

Here, Stalin explained Charles' obsession with astronomy and as such, when he was deciding when would be a good time to set the cornerstone for the building of the bridge, he consulted his astronomer who came up with this diagram:
......9
....7...7
...5.....5
..3.......3
.1.........1

Looking at this pyramid numbers, you'll see the astronomer's advice to Charles was to build the bridge in the year 1357, 9th July at 5:31am (which happened to be sunrise at that time). This date can be followed from reading the pyramid numbers from the bottom left and right to the top and back down on the right hand side again. So Charles had the first coernerstone laid exactly as advised. Interesting huh?

There's 15 bronze statues being placed with equal distance apart from one another on each side of the bridge. I took a few photos but the most significant statue was that of Saint John of Nas who became a saint after he, acting as a confessor to the queen refused to reveal the queen's confession to the jealous king, who had him killed.

If you look at the statue closely, you'll see the shiny dog on the left and the shiny woman on the right. The locals believed it was good luck to touch the 'woman' who was the queen as you walk past and as the bronze statue becomes dark green over time, the constant touching of the queen polished her and made her figure shiny again. You're now wondering why is the dog shiny then? Well, one night, drunken students who walked past the statue felt sorry for the dog as nobody touched him, so they polished it until it shined. The next day, people who saw the shiny dog thought you're meant to touch both the queen and the dog, and ever since then, both have been touched religiously by people!

During this walking tour, I made friends with couple of Americans and a Japanese tourist and we soon became like 'photography buddies' i.e taking photos of one another and cracking jokes about the trip, including the total number of times Stalin would be whining about the effects of communism in Czech by the end of the tour. After crossing the bridge, we caught a tram to the the old restaurant for much needed food, our tummies grumbling along the way, echoing our hunger. The restaurant was small but very cozy, decorated in a hunting theme, with animal skins, heads and various old rifles hanging against the otherwise bare walls. We were first served with this yummy vegetable soup before being offered a choice of main course meals, all of local food. I ordered the Czech goulash, which as it sounds, was beef ghoulash with dumpling (not like English or chinese one, but more like hardened dough medalions). For dessert, we sampled the "little coffins" which are meringue shaped like lil coffins with cream on top, sugar haven!

From here, Stalin, fully fed was back in high spirits as he led us on to the castle. It was rather interesting for us to note that as the tour goes on, Stalin began to relax a little and what we originally perceived as his dryness and lack of sense of humour were actually the opposite, his sense of humour were just dryer sounding due to the accent and his poker faced outlook. He broke away from this mould when his face suddenly lit up as he recalled a joke while telling us about communism and its effect on freedom of speech in Prague. He quipped "Like other countries, we were free to speak, it's only after we've spoken that's the problem". He laughed heartily and we politely chuckled while pretending to admire the next approaching building.

We soon walked past what seemed like an ordinary looking pub. We were however informed by Stalin that this is the cheapest pub in Prague? "So what, they give away free beer now?" asked Chris the American from our group. "Almost..it costs only 23 crowns (NZ$2) for a pint of beer." A few Danish men in our group started to edge away from our group and inching closer to the pub before their wives 'tsk,tsk' them back into place as we walked along. Next we walked past an old antique shop which Stalin loudly boasted as "the first Sex Shop in Europe". In response to our puzzled looks, he pointed to this rusty looking steel device and announced that it was a female chastity belt. Charming..

We finally arrived at the front gate of the Prague Castle (there's 3 gates all together before you enter the castle). By the front gate, there stood two Czech guards standing motionless cum London guards with Marge Simpson hairdo.

The last pic of me with my sunglasses outside the palace gate before I lost it (or was it stolen?! Hmmms)

The castle, like the bridge was built in 1357 and its construction continued on for several centuries, completed in various stages. Upon entering the first gate you see the more modern building that housed the current Prime Minister's Office and through the second gate, we finally arrived at the glorious sight in all of Prague (so I believe!) It's the Prague Palace Cathedral, also intially built in 1357 in gothic style but due to the religious upheaval, wars and political coup de tat, it wasn't completed until 1927.

The tower was so high I couldn't even get it all in frame!

The cathedral from the side view and yours truly.

One of the stained glass featured in the old cathedral. If you look at the bottom, there's some Czech words which translated to "Who would save you at times like this?" And the rest of the stained glass reflects the troubled times when you need saving. And the answer to the question being provided in either of the two: 1. The eye right at the top of the glass, depicting God as the saviour...or 2. Right at bottom left together with some pic of leaves are some words which basically translate to "Czech First Insurance". That's right folks, commercialism strikes again! Apparently, the church needed an old window replaced with stain glass and the insurance company agreed to sponsor the building of the glass provided they get something back.. so there you go!

From there, we then went up the south tower, all 318 steps (huff, puff,huff) to the top, just enough breath for me to mutter that the view better be great! Luckilly it was...

One of the shots taken from top of the tower overlooking Prague.

After leaving the tower and the cathedral, we made our way past the third gate and out towards various palace buildings that has become museums but we did not enter since it wasn't part of our walking tour. The last building we saw before we exit the castle was the "Black Tower" which is another old Tower that's colour is anything but black, it was white actually. Why the name? Well, apparently, there was a big fire this one time at the castle (aka bandcamp), the smoke of the were so black and thick that it covered the entire palace, the ashes sticking to the walls of this tower turning it black and it was then named the Black Tower and the name stuck, even after the clean-up. With that explanation, Stallin bid us adieu.

Me and the view of the city from outside the castle.

What a day..The American-Japanese-NZ alliance also made their way discussing the day and one thing everyone agreed upon was the great value of the walking tour. We would have probably not learnt so much about this place had it not been for our guide. I then excused myself quickly from the group to head home to get ready for dinner with Pohu. John, whom I met on this travellerspoint.com website (who advised me a lot about Europe as he used to live in Europe), is also a good friend of Pohu, a local Prague girl who had coincidentally been to NZ before (and hence her nickname, Pohu, from Pohutekawa tree). She took me to dinner at a nice restaurant in the centre of town and we had a good time talking about anything and everything! It was nice meeting a local to spend your evening with and a good way to unwind after a hectic day of sightseeing.

7 October

My last day in Prague was spent sightseeing in more detail the places I've already been to during the walking guiding tour but just taking my time a bit more to study or take pictures of the things I like. I also bumped into Ron, another American who was also on his own touring Europe. Unlike the other two Americans I met yesterday, Ron's from New York with your typical New York accent. We decided later to have lunch at this very nice cafe by the old St Nicholas church (the second one that's on the way to Prague castle). From where we sat, we had an awesome view of the city. Then I made my way back into the city, packed and head off to Bratislava, 5 hours away and capital of Slovakia.

Lunch with a view!

AO rating: Prague's amazing!! After Paris and London, would definitely be the best city I've seen. Did not have the fortune of discovering more castles in the suburbs but definitely will come back more to explore! 5 castles down, 996 to go!

Prague, Czech Republic remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Part of going on this super "Big Bus Tour" the day before allowed me one free entry into one of the walking tours and taking up this opportunity, I set for the meeting place for the walk, Trafalgar Square, which was of course, just slightly further than the Strand but if I land on the "community chest" and the card says go straight to jail and not collect $200", then I'm screwed :P Yes folks, who said Monopoly was just a game?! It was like a topographical map for me.

Today's walking tour would take us from Trafalgar Square to Buckingham Palace through a cobblestone path called the Mall (pronounced "mahl") so as to discourage Harrods mogul, Al-Fayed from storming into and taking over the palace and turning it into yet another shopping disneyland (will elaborate on this later). It was the second day that the sun shone unaccompanied by any clouds, which in itself is a highlight of this visit!

Trafalgar in the early morning (before the sun came through and the clouds disappeared)

The arc seperating Trafalgar Square from "the Mall"

Our tour guide promised that this path will lead us to witnessing the changing of the guards, which takes place every 48 hours (afterall, sooner or later, the guards on duty will either need to relieve themselves or go watch soccer, most likely the latter being more of a pressing matter).

The Mall is roughly about 800 metres long with the St James Park on both its left and right side and you can see statues of previous Dukes of York (title given to 2nd son of the King/Queen - current one being Prince Andrew, you know, the one that married the 'ginga'!). The tour guide begailing us with stories of the past Dukes' mischiefs (middle child syndrome?) to kill time while we await the new guards to march out from St James Palace (the old palace of the monarch)where they have been practising and rehearsing how to stand still and do bugger all (not for the feeble minded you know..) Eventually, we know they were about to emerge when Her Majesty's royal calvary (guards on horses) trotted from Buckingham Palace to St James, to escort the guards. It was really a magnificent sight to behold, noble horses and their riders, smartly dressed in glory, medals shining and dangling from their chests. A less elegant but yet amusing sight followed, in the form of a small green truck with two big round brushes at its front, gracefully cleaning up the poos left behind by the horses.

can't see the green truck, but it's there!

Few minutes later, the unmistakable sound of bagpipes tore through the air and soon after, a band of bagpipe players in their dark and blue green kilts (no matching wooly underwears detected..I checked to be sure they keep to tradition..) proudly marched in unison, leading the new guards, the first few on horses and the rest on foot, left right, left right...in perfect syncronised rhythm, their well polished shoes tapping the stone path together, ocassionally interrupted by the sounds of 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' and cameras clicking away (Japanese tourist brigade in tow...). We followed them until they marched into the Buckingham Palace ground and the iron gate closing behind them. Any thought of perhaps this was the end of the tour was soon forgotten when we heard a marching band music playing, getting louder and louder as the other new guards arrived (from another path leading to the palace) and also making their way into the palace grounds. Then the changing of guards ceremony took place. The leading music band would play a few tunes and the guards led by this bad would move forward. Then other music band would play and the guards they led would move forward from the other direction. Slowly but surely these two group of new guards then merged to meet the old guards and after captains of both 'new' and 'old' guards exchange their duty garments and ornaments, then the old guards marched and separated into two groups, each group marching until they're behind the two music bands. Then the new guards marched further into the palace grounds and the old guards were then led by the music bands as they march out of the palace. All very prim, proper and organised, wouldn't have expected anything less from the English.

Guards entering Buckingham Palace

That was when our walking tour ended and we were 'dismissed'. I then made my way to Hyde Park, which is just beside the palace. This park would be the city's equivallent to our Auckland Domain or Hagley Park, except that it's like 10 to 15 times bigger and it is also the home to the Kensington Palace (where Princess Di used to live), Princess Di memorial and Prince Albert Memorial. I decided I was now ready for the 'running' tour. You see, I refused to give up my jogging for fear of losing my fitness (walking's just not the same). In fact, I've gone as far as trying to ensure I do at least one run in every country. So far been successful except for in France due to the more rainy weather over there.

Greeting me at the entrance to the park was the bronze statue of Achilles, in his naked splendour. I chuckled to myself as I recall the bus tour guide's explanation on this statue the evening before. She said that this naked statue was the first of its kind to be unveiled in London in the mid 19th century. When the public first saw it, the reactions of 4 women were ghastly! The first two fainted. The third one had a stroke and the fourth just couldn't reach! :P :P

I couldn't reach either dang nabbit!

I ran all the way to Kensington Palace but was a bit disappointed that it was just a modern structure, nothing impressive and certainly not picture worthy! However, my disappointment was short lived further into my run when I came across the larger than life statue of Prince Albert, beloved husband of Queen Victoria who orchestrated this over-the-top tribute in the form of this memorial to show her undying love for him. She was so saddened by his death that she had the entire city's railings, lamp posts all painted black and ever since then, Londoners could never imagine their city look any more cheerful than this.

Lucky Albert aye?!

Looking at the time, I finished up my run so I could go visit Harrods department store. You're all probably thinking why would the history mad Adelina be interested in a gigantic shopping mecca? Well, I asked Evelyn the same question when she suggested this as a must-see! She then explained that Harrods are more than just Ballantynes or Smiths & Coheys..this is a store that is rich in tradition and customs as it is expensively catered for the upper class customers. Each department has a theme and decorated accordingly, like the Egyptian room that has a gigantic statue of a sphinx guarding its wares, right down to the 'elegant lady's public convenience room', that's right...good ol' loo even got a shape-up. They also have their own Harrods Bank which dated back to the 19th century, today it serves more as a money changer than a real bank. It was certainly interesting and worth having a look, but definitely a case of "once is enough".

All smells money and prestige ain't it?

From there, I took a very brisk walk to the Parliament House and Westminister abbey to take more pictures. On the way there, I walked past the Lincoln Inn, where the new lawyers get admitted to the bar. Nice place to get admitted...I was so jealous!

Of course, Parliament House is where the Parliament Tower, the infamous landmark of London lives, better known around the world for the name of the bell in the tower, Big Ben. West Minister abbey of course is the monarch's church and where many of its past kings and queens were buried.

Sure beats the beehive hands down doesn't it?

View of the front of Westminister Abbey

View from the back..England's answer to the French's Notre Dame.

Can't go to London and not take a picture of this!

I made it home just in time to grab a quick bite and a shower before rushing out again to finally see my first London West End musical, the Lion King. In my rush to run to the taxi, I slipped and fell, grazing my knee and elbow in the process and no, unlike my runs, this will not be repeated in other countries *fingers crossed*.

Arrived at the Lyceum building in the nick of time. I've been sitting here for 5 minutes trying to think of how to describe the musical. UNBELIEVABLE would be the closest adjective and yet still an understatement. The singing, the acting, special effects especially how they created the giraffes, gizzelles and elephants from humans were simply amazing. This certainly would go down as one of the best things I have ever done. Watch out you all, when I get back, I'll be looking for musical buddies....so "BE PREPARED..."

The show was truly the icing on the London cake. Unfortunately, my evening was tainted slightly by a 'bug' that landed on the cake. I have had a great rapport and respect for London's black cabbies because they're professional taxi drivers but the one I encountered on my way home was indeed an exception, rather than the rule. I won't go into detail regarding his rude behaviour but suffice to say, he must have realised it too in that when I gave him 10 pounds for the 8 pounds 20 pence ride, he claimed that he gave me back only a pound and claimed not to have any change, obviously realising I was not going to voluntarily tip him. He said 'sorry' and then proceeded to say 'actually, I'm not sorry, it's just the way it goes'. It takes all sorts I guess.

So that's London..short but certainly sweet!
AO Rating: Like its Queen, this country's capital has aged really well in accomodating the hustle and bustle of its long working days and sleepless nights of lights, dance, pubs, plays and musicals. If you're here, you'll be working and playing hard, no doubt about that!

Tomorrow, I'm off to Prague, the City of Castles!!

London, England - Part II remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

I arrived in London by the ever efficient Eurostar, a very very fast train from Paris to London's Waterloo Station, the entire journey only take about 2.5 hours. Damien, a fellow kiwi who migrated to London for the 'greener pastures' together with his now wife, Evelyn were waiting for me. It was indeed wonderful to see familiar faces again! D&E are the most atypical accountants you would come across. Damien with his jovial disposition and the bigger than life Evelyn, who easily commands your attention through her booming voice, perhaps to make up for her lack of height, or so I would tease her.

My dread in having to spend exuberent amount of money by virtue of the expensive cost of living in London and also the high value pounds was somewhat alleviated slightly by D&E's kindness in letting me stay with them. I must say in that respect I've been very lucky so far having to stay in a hostel only once in Amsterdam and since then, had friends coming to the rescue! However, I have a feeling the money I've saved up from accomodation will now be spent in this extravagant city.. The evening of 2 October was spent catching up with them both. Evelyn is also from Malaysian and so she relished being able to switch to speaking Hokkien with me, our commonly shared Chinese dialect from the state of Penang, Malaysia, where our parents derived from.

3 October

D&E, who had been entertaining other friends prior to my arrival, were helpful with providing all the typical tourist like pamphlets offering bus tours, walking tours etc but wild horses wouldn't drag them through another of those with me given that they've already done 8...EACH! So I was more than happy to excuse their lack of interest..a worry really when each of them could repeat word for word the tour guides' commentaries and they could even produce the same exact voice and monotones as the museum audio guides...so off I went on my own to explore what London has to offer.

Raphy (from France) had said that if I don't do anything in London, I should at least go and see one play/musical in West End (I knew London was where my wallet was going to get lighter). I half heartedly agreed but didn't really think I would find anything that would interest me but lo and behold! There were a few! Les Miserables was playing and so was the Lion King! I always wanted to see the Lion King and so it didn't take much to twist my arm (and open my wallet) before a ticket was purchased for the next night. I was extremely excited and would have jumped for joy (and click my heels together) if it wasn't for the fact that I was among the serious conservative English, hear, hear!

Bought one of those "BIG BUS TOUR" ticket to see London where you pay 20 pounds for 24 hours worth of bus ride across the famous tourist attractions. You can also step off and get back on again during this time. But wait! There is more! You also get to go for your choice of 1 of 5 walking tours available and if that wasn't a good deal enough, they even threw in a free ferry ride down the Thames! (What made you think they paid me to say this?!!!)

I walked from where D&E stayed to St Paul's cathedral which is a beautiful old church located in the centre of London and also the starting point of my bus tour journey. No sooner than 10 minutes from getting on the bus, I could see the tower bridge approaching and right beside it, the Tower of London, the historic castle originally built by William the Conqueror in 1066 and later expanded by the English Kings and Queens. I decided this would be a good spot to get off the bus as I could spend some time touring the castle and coincidentally, my free ferry ride takes off from the pier just beside the castle too. We Asians are well known for killing many birds with one stone (or boulder if that's required). The ticket cost 15 pounds (I tried hard to stop myself from converting that to kiwi dollars..that's freaking NZ$45!!! Arrrgh) Ok, slow yoga breathing....think of sipping tea with the Queen...

Outside St Paul's Cathederal on a gloomy English day, even that didn't put me off!

One of the many castles located within the Tower ground. This one houses the country's crown jewels. Although not able to take photos, I can confirm that I've seen the largest cut diamond in the world (The Cullinan I) *drool* gimme, gimme.....

Me standing outside by castle, with the red guard with Marge Simpson hairdo and his crown jewels..err, I mean he's guarding Her Majesty's jewels..

So, once I got my ticket (the vendor having to rip the money from my tight clutches...) I joined the rest of the Japanese tourists (could have sworn it was the same trigger happy clicking group from France) and made my way into the castle gate. Waiting for us there was a Yeoman Warder. Yeoman wha??!! Funny you should ask, a Yeoman Warder is a former serviceman to Her Majesty from any of her comonwealth countries, rewarded by the the Queen for his (yes, sexist pigs!!)service to the country and the reward allows the Yeoman to stay and live in the castle grounds with his family and to show pestering tourists around the castle. Did I say reward?!! These Warders wear an interesting bright blue and red costume (see below) which made it hard for me to imagine them as serious SAS officers or Warrant Officers in Her Majesty's army. Our particular Yeoman was a real character as he took us through the 50 minutes tour (I counted to see where my NZ45(!!!) got me). His narration of the history of the place often accompanied by quirky and witty remarks of a guide who no doubt takes his work seriously and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process.

That's our Yeoman Warder..he was once part of England's first line of defence against the enemies..

From our Yeoman I learnt that the Tower of London that were originally used as residence to the Kings and Queens of England were later abandoned and used as storage for armoury, artilery and gun powder but more imoportantly, it was also used as a prison where several infamous occupants were beheaded. Amongst them, Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard (2nd and 5th wives respectively of King Henry VIII), and Lady Jane Grey, the 17 year old would-be queen. Ooookk, mental note for women ever feeling the urge to go back to the past. Never do the following as a queen: Barren, cheat on your husband (who has 8 other mistresses anyway) and be ambitious daddy's political pawn.

I won't bore you with the rest of the historical journey that I took visiting the rest of the Tower but suffice to say that the White Tower (which was the original castle), together with the 4 other towers were truly impressive in terms of its medieval design, right up to the renovations carried out by subsequent rulers of the land. I took lots of pictures but won't clog up the disc space her with them.

Also from just outside the castle, you get an awesome view of the Tower bridge as you can see. This was the main bridge that originally separates London from the rest of the world. Many Kings in the past have used the Thames to travel to the Tower on business as opposed to using the conventional carriage in order to try and avoid paparazis, autograph hunters and of course, Oliver Cromwell (the dictator that turned England into a republic for a very short time).

The English don't do anything without style and aplomb do they?

Then after being satisfied that I've spent enough time in the Tower to justify spending NZ45!!!! on a tour ticket, I made my way to the pier to enjoy my FREE fery ride. It was rather a pleasant evening trip down the Thames, especially when due to a technology failure, one of the boat's crew, a young 15 year old boy ended up being our tour guide. He apologised profusely prior to his commentary which he feared would not be good enough for us. By the end of the tour, I think there wasn't a doubt in a single member of the tour's mind that the impromptu guide was not really that impromptu after all..very clever. I shall stop here as many of what I saw will later be described in more detail in my next and last day in London.

London, England - Part I remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

It is indeed without doubt a city of love. Before setting foot in France, I didn't understand why it earned this title. Sure, The Eifel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe are great, they got lots of museums, but how do these stone cold buildings and historical artefacts inspire heart to skip faster and the emotions to flow? The answer my friend is as the french says...Paris has a sense of 'je ne sais quoi' about it. It's not one thing that stands out but the entire city together, from the incredible romantic setting borne from a successful marriage of artistic and scientific designs in architecture, to the beautiful fresh flowers of kaleidescope colours strategically displayed by the grocer in the morning at its corner shop at the fringe of the city, the grand parks and gardens, lustrous green acres adorned with the glorious fountains and monuments from ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt, right down to the simple joy carved at a young man's face as he cycles down a narrow street with his shy girlfriend sitting behind him, holding on to him and smiling contently to herself. Scenes like these are constantly in abundance, it is no wonder that they cause strolling couples to pause their journey and to turn around gazing into each another's eyes before softly kissing, savouring the moment, the moment when everything feels right...because Paris says so, no, Paris expects love..and the couples lost in its magic were naturally drawn to answer this call.

As I didn't have the fortune to stick my tongue down some poor guy's throat, I settled instead to enjoy the company of friends. Raphy and I were lucky enough to have his 2 year old daughter, Lianne, and French no.1 female badminton player, Pi Hongyan (ranked no.3 in the world) joined us for our exrcursion on my second last day in Paris. As Raphy's a reporter, he'd became good friends with Pi and so our outing doubled as a catch up session for them both.

We went to Montmartre, which in 19th century, used to be the 'hang out' place for the creative types, writers, artists, politicians.. did you just laugh out loud?! Today it is an area of mimes, buskers, tacky souvenir shops and commercial artists.

Talking of souvenirs, if you were previously expecting any, this is the time for you to rid yourself of this utopian delusion. That's right, no lil mini Eifel towers, wooden clogs or teapots shaped in the head of the Queen or Charles..or Camillia for that matter, urgh!
It is hard enough carrying myself across Europe with my turtle shell without the extra weight and dangling sounds from dragging them around. So sorry..you'll just have to make do with this journal :P

Also located on top of a hill in Montmatre is the Basilique du Sacred Coeur, built in 1870's as a result of a vow taken by Parisian Catholics (they don't take their vows lightly those days). From the top of this hill you get a good view of the city too.

It may look like I'm posing, but I'm actually trying to transfer the energy of happiness to the sad looking bars I'm holding on to..yes, that's what I'm doing..

At the centre of the small town, I took a few pictures as you will see. The waiters at any of these restaurants continue to wear the typical waiter type clothing of the 19th century era to create that ambience which inspired the artists in the past.

In front of one of the oldest building in France, going back some centuries ago (yes, I forgot the date, kiss my ass!)

Garcon! His name is Gerard..but for an extra 5 Euro, I could call him anything I wanted..

Then we took a train into town, and got off at the Arc de Triomphe! I finally got what Raphy meant about the ridiculous round-about. Cars tooting and swerving right and left to try to get on to the roundabout! Apparently, if you can drive through this roundabout, you can expect to receive a diploma that says you are now skilled to drive anywhere else in the world...not sure if i want to die trying..

The reason why I looked so stiff is because I was standing in the middle of the road, only inches away from that mad roundabout when the pic was taken, sorry if I look like I was clenching my butt so tight I could crush nuts!

From there, we strolled down the world famous street, the Champ-Elysee, where the creme de la creme of French consumer stores set up their business to rob you blind. Great street to walk on and window shop, and unless you feel like paying NZ$20 for cup of coffee, I wouldn't recommend eating or drinking there either.

We continued walking into town and I took more photos but I'll save them until I get back, so at least I'll have a good excuse to have you guys pay for my meals as I show you my pictures. I must admit while we walked that day for 5 hours, you certainly don't feel the time flew perhaps because there were so many things to see. I did notice that the French do walk around taking oxygen from a higher plane..(aka snobbish) and while I don't think that's a commendable trait, I certainly come to realise then that perhaps it's not so much arrogance that make them walk around with baseball bats stuck up their peverbials, but more the case of pride...pride to be the citizens of country of immense wealth in history, and decendants of pioneers in the advancement and cultivation of knowledge, arts, science and culture to the highest degree. And if you ever pull out a bat from one of their arses, you will see that the bat would have been designed in a greco roman style and had been left behind (excuse the pun) from the previous 7 generations of the family.

2 October

Last day in France. Still haven't had a chance to see the Notre Dame. Had only 5 hours sleep, staying up writing this journal. So half asleep and probably looking like a chinese immigrant that just got let out of the container at the harbour, I made my way to Notre Dame. The night before a celebration was held there in honour of the Brazilian catholics living in France. The cathedral which is normally lit up at night was dark except for the light projection of Jesus against the front wall of the church, this projection being a copy image of the huge statue of Jesus situated at the St Jude Mountain in Brazil (I think...)

During the day, it's still impressive, given that its white ivory like walls look different to many of the buildings built around the same time in the city. The splendour of this building is evident from the craftiness of the design and workmanship, not too surprising perhaps given that it took more than 180 years of hard labour before it was completed in 1345.

View of the front, note the size!

Taken from the inside on one of the stained mirrors. There were at least 14 of them, all beautifully done and the light from the chandaliers hung in the centre illuminates these stained windows fortelling a tale of the past so vividly and beautifully.

View of the southern wall of the church. Look at the intricate design of this holy place of worship.

The end of my Notre Dame tour also marks the end of my visit to Paris. A sense of sadness filled me as I walked back to catch the subway train to take me back to my apartment. It was like an end of a delectable affair..one where you know the conclusion is inevitable but you kept on hoping that perhaps miraculously..the affair would last and it was the same for me..a reluctant farewell..stubbornly and perhaps understandably, I prefer "A bientot" instead of "au revoir".

And my utmost gratitude to Raphy and his family (and Pi) for their time, kindness and patience (plenty of it) in showing me their pride and joy, their land, their home. I'm really humbled by it all.

AO rating: A whirlwind affair taking me by storm, but leaving behind not devastation but cherishable memories to last a lifetime. An affair definitely worth a rekindling...

This is the castle where Mary Antoinette, Queen of France and wife to Louis XVI, was executed during the 3rd French revolution. Past so tragic, Presently so romantic...

Paris, France - Part III remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

After hearing from Mark that I would at least need a day or two to fully appreciate the Lourve, I decided to dedicate this entire day to visiting it. The weather was gloomy with the heavy black clouds threatening to pour down and so I was glad that I would be spending most of the day inside.

Arrived at the Lourve and managed to buy my ticket without having to stand too long in the queue, still too early for those Japanese tourists I guess, muhahaha! Once inside and armed with my audio guide and detail plan of the museum and its specific exhibits (slowly turning into a seasoned museum tourist I know...), I was ready to be cultured and educated. Beam me up Da Vinci!! That's right, amongst many other things, the priceless Mona Lisa IS IN DA HOUSE!!

Just to give you an idea of what I was up against, the Lourve museum is divided into 3 different sections, namely Sully, Denton and Richelieu. Each section has 4 floors and each floor has different exhibition(s) and there can be up to 20 rooms on each floor. So basically, if you do the maths, we're talking about 240 rooms of history, art, culture and priceless artefacts. I was in heaven! The genre on offer on the day of my visit was Art of Islam, Sculptures, Egyptian Antiquities, Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities and the Medieval Louvre on the ground floor, Oriental and Egyptian Antiquities, more Roman and Greek Antiquities and arts of Africa; Asia, Oceania and Americas on the first floor, Objects d'art, Italian and French paintings and prints & drawings on the 2nd floor and on the 3rd floor, we have German; Flemish and Dutch paintings & drawings and Russian; Belgian, Swiss and Scandinavian paintings & drawings...yeah, that's all, not much :P

Words could not describe all the amazing things I saw, especially the Greek & Roman sculptures. I also confirmed my theory that Greek & Roman men took steroids, that's the only fallible explanation to why they've such muscular and big bodies but with small errr..you know...not that I was looking too closely of course *cough* (sooo glad they're not ice sculptures). It was endless series of facinating piece of history, one after the other..each time you think you've seen the most amazing sculpture, you then walk into the next room and there's the gigantic statue of Diana, Goddess of War that just blew you away.

Also equally impressive was the Crown Diamonds Room filled with the royal crowns and jewellery belonging mostly to Napoleon Bonaparte and his first Queen, Josephine. Talking of which, just like in Versailles, we were treated to Napoleon's apartment which in my humble opinion, was even more opulently and luxuriously decorated than his predecessors' chambers. Like many of the rooms in his apartment, the dining room was probably the most impressionable with 8 grand and large chandaliers lighting it, fully convincing me that the largest French import during that time must have been candles.

Then there were the paintings and drawings. Goodness me, room after room of incredible lifelike paintings by famous Italian and French artists. One of the more notable one was the coronation ceremony of Napoleon Bonaparte as painted by the royal artist to His Highness, David. Nothing obviously though could even come close to the hauntingly beautiful Mona Lisa, the room of which this painting was kept I saved for last...A funny incident took place here too. There was a sign in front of the picture that says no cameras allowed, obviously for fear of what the camera flashes would do to the lighting of this old painting. They have this Morrocan staff worker whose job was to walk around telling ppl off if they do decide to try and take any pictures. So I felt sorry for her when this incident happened. She walked across to one end of the group to tell them off for taking pictures but while she was doing that, at the other end, the flashes were going off as ppl used this opportunity to take some on the other side. This lady would then walked to this group and tell them off for taking the pictures and the other end would then start clicking away. So this poor lady just walked left to right constantly yelling out "excusez-moi, no pictures, s'il vous plait" to no avail.

I must confess towards the 5.5 hour mark of my visit yet to another room full of paintings, I began to lose interest and started to just skim through the paintings and walk out again. I liken this 'overdose of information' to when you see a Bargain Bin during a clothing Sale and there's tonnes of people rummaging through hundreds of clothing. They might be good quality clothing but somehow seeing so many of them in bulk and so easily available seemed to make you appreciate them less, a case of 'less is more' definitely. The wow factor took a hit and I knew then that I've seen enough that day and it was time to call it a day.

Venus/Apphrodite, The Roman/Greek Goddess of Love. Yes I know she pales in comparison when taken next to me...oh woe is her... :P

From the outside, The glass pyramid in front of the Louvre. Took more pictures, but afraid I'm running out of disc space to show all. Maybe when I get back...

That evening, Raphy cooked me dinner, not altogether French but I did try the 'foie gras' which is a goose liver pate, a specialty here in France, an appetizer normally favoured by the high class society, sharing the limelight with other fancy appetizers such as salmon or caviar. Anyone who knows me knows that I hate liver with a passion but for some reason, I really like this but Raphy assured me that I don't want to know how they're made or I'll never eat them again. Once again I opened my mouth and then thought better and kept on eating...

Tomorrow, will be walking to the Arc de Triumphe, Champs-Elyseé and all around the city to take in the general view of the city.

Paris, France - Part II remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

As I walked outside, I was half expecting one of the city's familiar landmark, like the Eiffel Tower or the Arc dé Triumphe to appear before me. Instead, a sight of total traffic chaos greeted me. Vechiles, old and new were emitting black fumes thick enough to smokescreen the low rise old renaissance period buildings nearby. If I thought I was going to hear an accordian music accompanying someone singing a french folk song, I would instead have to make do with all the hoots and toots of the busy Wednesday evening traffic in the city. It is weird (and scary) to see 4 lane traffic in the middle of the city without any road lines separating them. It is nothing short of a miracle that there weren't any accidents from the way cars, motorbikes and pedestrians zigzagged, overtook, cut across one another in heading home from work. I know its a paradox but it was like orderly chaos or something. I remarked as such to Raphy (my badminton french correspondent....yes, from that same geeky badminton website if you must know...) when he picked me up. He gave me a "ahhh, c'est la vie" kinda smile and said "I wonder what you will make of the round-about at the Arc dé Triumphe then"...started to open my mouth to ask and thought better of it...

Raphy (short for Raphael) is a reporter who also runs a french badminton news website. He and his wife have kindly offered to put me up at their spare apartment which so happen to be just across from their own one, so that's handy. Hah! I laugh at the Flying Escargot or whatever the French's backpacker equivallent is. My apartment is located about 15mins subway train ride away from Paris central. As someone who has never been on a subway train before and would be doing so for the first time in a country she has never been in and who do not speak its language, I think it can be classified as a death wish.. Anyway, had a test run that evening when I followed Raphy into town for his badminton practice. It wasn't so bad once you get the hang of it..

Was also keen to practice my French which I studied for one year at University. So started with the usual 'bonjour' and 'bon soir' to the subway ticket seller but he could probably tell from my desperation to sound French that I was but a tourist and he gave me a polite smile before casually muttered in English, 'good evening to you too miss'. Zut!!

29th September

Did a bit of research in the morning as to where to start the sightseeing. Even this in itself was a bit of a mission as there's simply so many things to see! Raphy was working but another French badminton correspondent, Ming offered to meet up and show me around. So took the sub into the city and had a walkaround. In general, you see a good mix of local French ppl and those from Seneagal, North Africa or Morroco. Almost all of them are as you expect in the fashion capital of the world, very well dressed, chic and sophisticated for the adults, and trendy, street style cool for the 'lil adults'.

Like Amsterdam and Neustadt, people here I noticed light up quite a bit, not so much in subway trains, but certainly on the streets and in restaurants /cafés. Talking of which, it's interesting how you can see a café, clothing or shoe store like every 2nd or 3rd shop but you can't hardly see other types of outlets, including a Vodafone store. Also, I noticed there's a few McDonalds but no KFC in sight, which I found to be rather odd.

I've also discovered that in France, there are certain advantages of being a woman. Most French women are nice to you because of the shopping mecca sisterhood ("ohmygawd, where zid you get zhose pair of zelicious shoes?") and as for the men....charming and definitely flirt alert material ladies! Observe: I got lost trying to find Ming's restaurant where I was suppose to meet him and so I asked this taxi driver who happened to be standing outside his taxi, for directions. He said "oh madammoiselle, let me take you there for it would ze such great injustice to zee such a beautiful girl like yourself unhappy because you are lost" Smooooooth.. After realising he wasn't going to take no for an answer, I relented (he was harmless, just flirtatious). I insisted on paying when he dropped me off and he refused saying "ahh madamoiselle, you've already overpaid me with your smile", and without skipping a beat, I replied, "where's my change then?"

Anyway, since Ming has a car and we agreed it would be pointless for him to show me just the inner city as I could walk around for that, he decided to take me to the Versailles, the former Imperial residence to the French monarch. Our drive there was quite pleasant. While it was a cloudy day with the sun breaking through once a while, it was certainly warm. We drove past Champ Elyseé and then on to the motorway before arriving in the outskirts of Paris, less chaos, but still same style of old buildings, smoky air and stylish locals, that was until we pulled over at the entrance to the Versailles, the japanese tourist 'army' were disembarking from the 8 tourist buses, all armed with their favourite weapons of choice, an umbrella and the latest digital camera Japanese yen can buy! Ming took a look at the tourists and said how lucky I was that it's the low season. Upon noticing my disbelief expression, he went on to explain how he once had to queue for more than 3 hours just to get a ticket during the summer months and there were at least 20 busses around then. Have to remind myself I'm not in Kansas anymore, this is Oz!!

Ming advised I would need at least 3 hours, at which point I almost choked on my mint..you're kidding right, 3 hours for one area? He shook his head, pushed me out of the car and drove off. Upon approaching this gigantic palace, I began to take Ming's estimation seriously. The humongous palace is divided into the King's state apartment (more like a castle than an apartment!), the Queen's, the Hall of Mirrors, the Hall of Battles, servant quarters and the Donach (name given to the heir to the throne)'s apartment. To give you and indication of the size of this palace, the King's apartment for example consist of his bed chamber, his drawing room, throne room, dining room, drawing & music room, 8 living rooms named after the Roman Gods and Goddesses, a ballroom and his guardroom. Each size of the room is probably on average, 200 square metres. Now, times that by 3 and you just covered the living quarters for the royals. The interior of the palace can be summed up in two words - Excessive Opulence! Once you have toured through the many gold gilded rooms with renaissance paintings on its ceilings and hand crafted oriental and greek furnitures, you began to understand why the Revolution took place! I took many photos but unfortunately, since I'm only allowed 10mb disc space per month for my pics on this website, I have to limit the number of photos. Don't worry, any photos you don't see here has been saved onto a CD disc.

As I was heading into the last room in the palace, the magnificent Hall of Mirrors, the state ballroom filled with mirrors and crystal chandaliers (trying to picture Louis the XIV dancing to "stayin alive"), my cellphone rang and it was Ming saying the 3 hours were up and whether I was ready to go, already???!!! I haven't even been to the garden yet? Not wanting to hold him up, I said I'd have a quick look at the garden before we go and whether he could give me an extra 20mins or so. His response was a really loud guffaw of laughter. He wisely said that I would need at least an hour for a 'quick look' and I was like, how long does one need to appreciate a garden? Sheesh. Once again, he said he will ring again in an hour and hung up.

Still smarting from the conversation and marching decisively towards the garden, I was muttering to myself thinking Ming probably thought I needed more time because he expected me to be walking slowly and underestimating my fitness. I entered into the garden and thought, yeah...ahah! Just as I thought...no worries to see everything in 20 mins. So I proceeded to walk around leisurely even, taking pictures and then I spotted a fountain and walked towards it to have a closer look when lo and behold! Standing at the end of the fountain and looking down, I saw this...

Garden my ass! Pardon my french..but this is no garden?! it's another country! Ok,ok, exaggeration but at least an estate. Basically from the palace right to the end of the 'grand canal' is a 60 minutes walk! I didn't walk all the way but walked a fair way. The Estate was covered with manicured lawns, purple and pink bougan-villas, lines and lines of well cut hedges tastefully broken only by life size sculptures of Greek and Roman heroes and heroines and to complete this mix of landscape masterpiece and grandeur are the fountains, ranging from the simplistic small round shaped ones to the more sophisticated well designed oval shaped ones. In one, there was a bronze and jade sculpture of several warriors on carriages drawn by the winged horses, poseidons emerging from the waters, half out of the water, half submerged, very impressive.

View of the palace taken in front of one of the fountains.

When Ming rang, I sounded abashed in asking for another 30 mins which he understandably and happily obliged. I was surprised to find that I was truly exhausted by the time we drove off living behind the massive and vast estate of Versailles. Ming then asked, where next? It was only 5pm after all and I wasn't sure so I left it to him to surprise me. He drove back into the city and along the way, we drove through the 'tunnel' where Princess Di crashed her car and died years ago. Before we even arrived, I knew straight away where we were heading. How could I not notice the enchanting and enormously imposing Eiffel Tower looming in front of me. Ming dropped me outside Palais de Chaillot, which is located across the river from the Tower. This place is apparently the best place to take pictures of the Tower. It's funny how prior to getting there, I've told myself I wouldn't be trigger happy with the camera when I see the Tower or any of the other famous landmarks in Paris because we see it so often on TV and those travel shows, surely it was not going to look any different in real life? Boy...talking about being wrong, which I'm beginning to see happened a lot for me since I've been in Paris. It is hard to explain the sense of humility and awe I experienced when coming face to face with this infamous monument. The clouds had cleared, the sun's evening rays bathing over the entire scene of the Sien river, its calm water glistening like jewels, its beauty undeniably dwarved by the stunning and breathtaking sight of the tower, standing erect and proud against the backdrop of a cerulean blue sky....priceless indeed! Ok, 15 shots of the Tower later...(I know, I know..weak!) I slowly joined the queue with the others to go up to the 1st stage of the Tower. There's 3 stage. While I only paid for the 1st stage, I was happy to discover that you could save that extra 3 euros by climbing the stairs to the 2nd stage (instead of catching the lift). My mom had trained me well... As there aren't that many high rise buildings in Paris, the entire city was visible from the viewing platform either on the 1st or 2nd stage. Here you get the 360° view of the city in its entire magnificence! I could see the Arc de Triumphe, the Notre Dame, the course of the Sien river and the mini bronze model of the Statue of Liberty located by the bank of the river. After an hour or so of walking around and the effect of walking all day at the Versailles and climbing the 356 steps from 1st to 2nd stage of the Tower, I was ready to collapse in exhaustion.

Walked most of the way back to the centre of the city before catching the sub back. Had a bit of a mini drama as I forgot the name of the metro station where I was suppose to get off. After getting off 2 wrong stations, I finally and thankfully managed to find my way back to my apartment for a well deserved rest. Tomorrow, I will be dedicating the entire day to the Louvre, le museum extraordinaire. Can't wait....

Voilà!!

Paris, France - Part I remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

After drinking lots of water in the hope of warding off the threatening hangover headache, Mark and I headed off towards the hilly Hambach area on our way to Hohe Log, a lovely walking track with chestnut forest that leads up to a nice restaurant at the top of the 623m hill where Mark's father was working. We were going to try the local Neustadt specialty cuisine, leberknödel and sauerkraut which translates to Liver dumpling and pickled cabbage respectively. So as you can probably forgive me, I wasn't exactly looking forward to this cullinery adventure with springs in my steps.

So Mark's friend, Christian played chaffeur of the day and took us to a certain point along the way and then we walked the rest. The trip was mostly uphil on a gradual ascent with beautiful chestnut trees right and left and ocassionally, you see other visitors but it wasn't crowded. I was able to draw in a lungful of fresh clean air for a change and it was delightful being entertained by Mark and Christian's stories of Germans, their childhood antics, their voices often interrupted by the cheerful cacophony of callings from the dwellers of the forest.

Then, we went to Hambacher Schloss (castle) where on 27th May 1832, the first demostration for unity freedom and democracy in Germany took place. After a super quick look around, we had to go to another friend of Mark's place, who was also called Christian. This Christian was taking us to a Germany's top division badminton game in a nearby town. I know I'm suppose to be here in Germany sightseeing, but hey, I also love badminton so why not. It was a good afternoon and I must say that the skill at that level in Germany is quite comparable to that of NZ's top division.

The walking track on the way to Hohe Log

From left, yours truly, Mark and Christian

Hambacher Schloss

Adelina came, saw and conquered Hambacher Schloss *roar*

26th September

Mark and Tanja had to work as it's now Monday. I decided to take this opportunity to visit the information centre and be a real tourist for a change. Armed with my camera and phrase book, I located the centre easily and sighing with relief that the people working there do speak English, I quickly collected a series of tourist pamphlets, albeit most of them in German. It is interesting to note that although one would expect tourists visiting Germany would not be able to speak German and accordingly, one would think the pamphlets would be in English, but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Anyhow, thankgoodness maps and pictures know no language barriers and soon I found my slight annoyance with this fading away with the early morning clouds. Walking around the small town noting various beautiful attractions, made more beautiful in the sunny light was simply delightful. The highlight was seeing The Stiftskirche, Neustadt's main landmark which is an old church, consisting of two unequal sandstone steeples towering over the town for more than 500 years now. The 57 step church's tower is also the home of Germany's biggest bell made of cast iron, one of the many spared during World War II. Oh, the time flew when one's having such a good time and before long, it was time to go home again as I was playing badminton with Mark in the evening. Here are some of the wonderful photos taken on that day.

A narrow 'gossen' (small street) heading towards the town square.

Tudor style cafes and shops located at the town square, also known as the Markt.

The stunning Stiftskirtche, piece de resistance of this small town, located in the heart of the Markt.

27th September

Tanja had a day off and suggested perhaps we catch the 20 minute train to the nearby town of Speyer (sher-pa-yer). Lots to see and do in one of Germany's oldest town, established in 3 B.C by the Romans! Upon arrival, we first trotted off to Altpörtel (the Main City Gate), one of the highest and most important city gates in Germany. Lower sections were constructed between 1230 to 1250 and the top floor and the tower (all 154 steps to the top, I counted!) with its late-gothic balustrade and the arcades were added in 1512 to 1514. Tanja and I took some pictures at the top and also of the view of the city from the tower.

The Main City Gate from the outside

Pic of me taken at the very top of tower, at the background is the main attraction, Cathederal of Speyer.

Who's that poser??! More view of the city in the background, the rightful attraction!

Impromptu pics of Tanja, me and the wind!

Next,we headed off excitedly towards the main attraction, Dom zu Speyer (Cathedral of Speyer), the most impressive and stunning building I've had the privilege to see so far in Germany. It was found in 1030 under Emperor Conrad II. The crypt located in the cellar of the cathedral was well preserved and containing the tombs of 8 German emperors and kings, four queens and several bishops. Check out these photos!

View of the front of the cathedral and the nearby building.

Getting closer...

About to enter through the front door when Tanja got a call from work!

Few of the many tombs of the kings/emperors down in the crypt.

Walls of the Cathedral adorned with beautiful renaissance paintings of life of Christ.

View of the eastern wall of the cathedral with a nice pagoda of the 12 apostles.

Tanja and me to give you an indication on the size of the cathedral.

After ooh-ing and aahh-ing at the cathedral, Tanja and I decided to have lunch to recharge before tackling the local museum. We dined at a local cafe in the centre of town and Tanja ordered the saumagen, another local German cuisine, made out of meat, potatoes and finely chopped parsleys and other herbs and spices which are then cooked in 'pig's stomache' (thus the german name of the dish) but Tanja assured me that the pig's stomache only acted as a vessel for the food cooked inside. It looks and taste like burger patties. Couldn't think of a better way to wash down the delicious food with the 'new wine'. It's a wonder I'm not more sloshed than usual given how easy it is to drink the wine here. Here's an interesting anedote. Every taxi in Germany is a Mercedez. I mean surely, just because it's a German made brand, you don't think every taxi driver would drive one? You Porche owners can let go of your breath as I have yet to see their prestige eroded in such manner.

Once our physical hunger and thirst have been appeased, we realised our minds were equally famished for facts and history of this wonderful town.So we enthusiastically made our way to the Historic Museum of the Palatinate, built between 1907 to 1910. Inside, we learnt of the town's birth through Roman establishment, and its growth as a wine central and a favourite resting place during the winter for its rulers of the past.

The secrets of the land can be found here!

Just as knowledge was food for our mind, the Rhine river we knew would quench our optical thirst for natural aesthetic beauty. As you can see from the picture below, it is indeed a sight to behold, the remarkable Rhine that stretches from Switzerland, right through Germany and all the way to Amsterdam. Nearby from the river is the Sea Life Aquatic Centre giving Tanja and I a glimpse of what would be under the Rhine, fishes, sting rays, sea horses but we didn't find Nemo unfortunately.

Bridge over the Rhine.

Although Nemo was no where to be seen, meanwhile, who says Germans don't have a sense of humour?

By the end of the marine tour, we were quite happy to make our way back to Neustadt, but not before we got some ice cream from Tanja's favourite local ice cream parlour and 'onion bread' from the local bakery, apparently the perfect compliment to the 'new wine'. Luckily I had badminton again that evening with Mark to ensure my waist line don't get any funny ideas.

Germany, or rather, this part of Germany I've had the pleasure of sampling has indeed been that extra more special as a result of living with and experiencing it through the eyes of two of its locals, Mark and Tanja. I am forever grateful to both of them for the kindness, patience, hospitality and readiness in which they have welcomed me not only to their town and their own home, but also into their hearts. I believe I have found two more friends for life. Danke et Ich libe dich!

From Neustadt with Love...

AO rating: New wine, new discoveries, new and everlasting friends.

Neustadt Weinstraße - Germany (Deutschland) - Part 2 remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Despite having past statistic going against my favour, I'm happy to actually announce that despite checking in about 40 mins before the departure of my flight, I actually made it thankyouverymuch!

I was not stopping in Hamburg however as through my many international business connection overseas (sounds better than saying from a geeky badminton website), I was only passing Hamburg on my way to Germany's wine region, Neustadt Weinstraße where Mark and Tanja live. Lucky for me, my visit coincides with their wine tasting festival and also Tanja's visit to Heidelberg, one of Germany's more famous region (aka tourist mecca). I must say despite warnings from my trusty Lonely Planet guide book regarding how Europeans differ so much in terms of personalities and customs based on their countries of origin, I certainly was still taken aback by how much this is the case. While most Dutch people speak fluent English and often on first point of contact, they would start a conversation with you in English, the more serious and proud Germans will address you in their native tongue first and upon receiving blank puzzled looks from you, they would then kindly switch to English, often much to your relief!

It was the problem with communication that saw my stress level suddenly shooting up at warp speed after 2 days of the leisurely pace and life in Amsterdam. It was with much difficulty before I managed to find a bus that would take me from the airport to the central train station in Hamburg. The next mission arrived when I had to explain to the ticket seller at the train station as to where I was heading. Neustadt means 'new city' and besides Neustadt Weinstraßen, there's all these other Neudstadts in the wine region which meant I had to say the full name of this place. After trying very much to get the right pronounciation and intonation right, spitting at the poor woman behind the ticket counter in the process, I wrote it down instead and much to both myself and the lady's relief, she nodded happily and issued me with my ticket, showing the train leaving from Platform 13.

Checked the time when I got to Platform 13, ahh, with 10 minutes to spare, excellent. Feeling relaxed for the first time, I began to look forward to my train ride and texted Mark to advise that I would depart at 18:30 (Germans tell time in 24 hour system) and arrive at 23:30. When the train finally arrived, I had trouble finding the wagen (car) number. After a few minutes of panic, decided to harass the impatient looking conductor who quicky waved me out of the train with a dismissive 'nein,nein, wrong train, nein!' I got off and went to ask what looked like the station staff (with red buret that made them looked more like first aid officers than train station staff). I was then informed that apparently, 5 mins before the train arrived, it was announced (only in German of course) that my train has switched from platform 13 to 14 and the train had just left, he said smiling at me, obviously not paying attention to my hissing and murderous looks I threw him. I was told to get my ticket changed to the next train (the last one for the day). So had to march back up several long stairs and dragging my backpack which was getting heavier by the seconds, all the way back to the ticket counter to get a new ticket. This time I was informed that the train will be on Platform 14. Got there and waited but this time, I was 'slightly' more cautious, checking every 3 minutes with the red buret rodents, err I mean station officers on whether there has been any more change in platforms. In fact, 2 minutes before the train arrived, that was what took place, another change, my train now arriving at Platform 13. This time thankgoodness I asked and was able to finally get on the right train. The rest of the trip remained uneventful which of course was a welcomed change.

Arrived in Neudstad at 12:50am and was so grateful to get off the train and meet Mark and Tanja for the first time. Within the first 5 mins of meeting Mark, I had to readjust my impressions of Germans as the serious and quiet type. Mark has more energy and life than the Energizer bunny, more so than even Steve Irwin (perhaps Mark got it from him when he and Tanja went to Australia for 3 months in a cycling tour). Tanja is more quiet and shy, also beautiful and sweet, with a welcoming smile that quickly put me at ease and my reservations of intruding on their lives at rest.They live in a very lovely one bedroom flat about 5 minutes walk from the town centre. We retired early as we were all tired and that night, I slept like a baby for the first time since my trip, perhaps partly due to exhaustion and jet lag, but partly also due to not sharing a dorminatory with 5 other party-crazy 'flying pigs' in Amsterdam.

23rd September

Mark took me into their local township for a quick look around of reasonably famous buildings, restaurants and the fountain full of lil statues of Elwedritsche-brunnen, these rather strange imaginary creatures that has a body of a chicken but with human heads and body parts. It is customary during wine harvest season for locals to have a party during the night where they bring bags and a special 'shiny' bait to try and lure and capture these creatures that are rumoured to be hiding between the grape trees. One group of the party will be walking down from one end of the vineyard,carrying lanterns and making loud noises to trap and move the creatures going towards the other end of the vineyard where another group of the party are waiting with the big bag 'trap' containing the shiny items to lure these elwedritsche-brunnens. Of course, the outcome#s always the same where everyone will boast later about this most mangificent and special brunnens that somehow 'got away'.

The Enchanting Elwedritsche-brunnen

A bit of background info. Neustadt is a wine town with nine neighbouring wine villages (about 5,000 acres of vine area) surrounding it and together, they are a home to a population of 56,000 people. It looks over the fertile valley of the Rhine (river) from an elevation of about 100-200 metres above sea level. The oldest town records date back to 1245 with the foundation stone for the first building in the town being laid in 1368. Of course I had to research this information myself no thanks to Mark and Tanja's "we live here all our lives, but don't ask us the history".

The locals were just starting to get ready for the wine tasting festival that was to start in a few days. It was really warm and balmy as we walk around and saying 'tag (g'day) or morgen (morning)' to the friendly locals. We had to cut our tour short to go meet Tanja who would be taking me to Heidelberg, which was about an hour's train ride away. This town by the Neckar River boasts of the infamous magnificent castle, Heidelberg Schloss built in the 12th century but never got finished and parts of the castle were constantly destroyed either in battles or due to poor building structure. Took some great pics, had an ice cream and then went back to Neudstadt to go watch Mark play badminton in a local league.

The garden located within the castle

View of one of the castle walls

View from another 'destroyed' portion of the castle wall

Views of the Neckar River from the castle's highest point

24 September

This was a nice lazy day for us. Spent a bit more time to get to know Mark and Tanja. Mark's currently studying towards his Electrical Engineering diploma and Tanja brings home the bacon working as a database administrator for a big beauty/healthcare store. Mark and I then went into the local town to see what the weekend Market has to offer. I offered to cook Mark and Tanja my famous Malaysian curry and so we went to the only local chinese grocery store to get the ingredients and for some reason, I tried hard not to crack up laughing seeing a Chinese guy speak German..hard to explain but really funny!
It's like watching a german dubbed kung fu movie or something.

The market was busy that morning with people getting their local fresh produce and stopping to chat with friends over a cup of coffee at the nearby cafe, very relaxing atmosphere indeed. Mark then explained to me the difference between Kiwis/Australian customer service vs Germany's. Basically, vendors in Germany don't always believe that customer's always right, in fact, they often go out of their way to make you feel like you're begging or being a nuisance for wanting something from them, this is more apparent within the civil service like in post office due to the state owned services of the past.

In the evening, Mark and I had a quick game of badminton before he played in another local league. I was cheering him on when I kept getting strange looks from the other people there. Mark later explained another German etiquette to me. Apparently, these are reserved people who don't like showing too many emotions and they frown upon others that do and in fact, cheering on your team mates in a sports context may be regarded as being rude and uncalled for, go figure...

Later that night (Saturday night), we all went out to the Market again to sample the "neu wien" of this year's harvest. There were all sorts but my favourites are two; the first was rather a sweet concoction that taste like any ordinary grape juice, so easy to drink, but whoa, underestimate its alcoholic potency at your own peril ladies and gentlemen. I was gigglish by the third or fourth sip. The other favourite was called Rieslingschorle which has 2/3 of Riesling wine and 1/3 of sparkling mineral water so it taste like a 'diet wine' and the bubbliness gave it that champange taste. It was a good night as being perhaps the sole Asian girl there, I was a favourite target for drunken marriage proposals and before you start having a cow mom, no, I didn't accept any......yet!

Since being here, I've been trying to learn a bit of German but I must say it's a language that is not catered for the short asian tongues. Each time I have to pronounce the words, it's always accompanied by spits and I often felt like I was trying hard to spew my guts out to get the gutteral sound right. Some of the words I've learnt so far:

1. Riesling miesling (german slang for drink up man and no worries)
2. Papa slumpch (Papa smurf and I refuse to divulge how this came about!)
3. Böser mann / frau (bad man / woman)
4. Tschüs (informal goodbye)
5. Briefmarke nach Neuseeland (A stamp to NZ)
6. Ich liebe dich (The 3 words feared by most men..I love you, surprisingly, though, many of them seemed to forget this fear on the wine tasting night)

Part Two to follow....

Neustadt Weinstraße - Germany (Deutschland) -Part 1 remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

After clearing the customs (surprisingly quickly and easily, no evil fat men with greasy moustaches with rubber gloves in sight), I gracefully and efficiently purchased my train ticket heading downtown. Ok,ok, you know me too well. I literally stumbled my way through it, almost buying the wrong ticket and leaving my Lonely Planet guidebook behind at the ticket counter. Thank goodness at least they all speak good English, ja!

The train sation at Amsterdam Centraal was a hustle and bustle of human activities, I mean after all, it was 6am already! Thought this was suppose to be laidback society?!! Anyway, trying unsuccessfully to blend in with the crowd (perhaps walking with such a large backpack that made me look like a human turtle may have something to do with my failure to remain inconspicuous), I made my way out of the station and after a few false turns and cursing, I managed to find the Flying Pigs Backpackers. Had to wait until 8:30am before they would allow me to check in. Luckilly, they had a storage place for my 'turtle shell'which I happily dislodged and began to...sit on the computer (free internet provided at this place, excellent, more money to spend on my museum tours). Well, what else was I to do so early in the morning, no respectable museum will open at this time, believe me, I checked!

I checked in soon after into a mix dorm with 5 other ppl. I was warned not to go into the room until after the official check out time for last night's visitors at 10:30, unless of course I wanted to be greeted by 5 drunkenly asleep men wearing nothing except smiles on their faces, gee, what to do, what to do..backpack getting sooo heavy :P

(Backpacker located on a narrow street)

Anyway, armed with the backpacker's cheesy guide to discovering Amsterdam (already made a few discoveries in Amsterdam myself *cough*), I ventured out like a girl on her first day at school, excited but also scared of the unknown..

Foreign would be one word I would use to describe my intial impression of this canal weaven city. As you will see from the pictures I have taken, the architecture, city infra sturecture, sights and scenes that are so alien to what we are used to seeing in New Zealand. From the tall and narrow brick buildings, many built even before NZ was discovered, right to the millions of bicycles of all shapes, sizes and colour, you are filled with a sense of awe of the foreigness of it all. Kinda expected, but not to the extent as I have imagined.

In my short walk around the city, what I saw is a historical city with its small, narrow but hecticly busy streets, houses and buildings strategically located along the many canals and efficient trams (not like the old fashion ones we get in Chch, but more modern mini-bullet train looking ones). The people are mostly walking or cycling, just as we are outnumbered by our more wooly friends back home, the bicycles similarly outnumber the motorised vehicles here! The road system's very cyclist friendly, sometimes on one side of the street, you have two cycling lanes sandwiching a car lane. Of course it's also odd that everyone drives on the *wrong* side of the road! Although also full of pedestrian and cyclist crossings, the traffic law must be reasonably relaxed around here. So if you're crossing the road on a pedestrian crossing, don't automatically assume that you won't get run over!

(One of the many canals in the city)

(Beurs Van Berlage ~ old stock exchange building)

(A narrow street in residential Amsterdam, see the interesting window design?)

(Paleis [palace] located at the famous Dam Square)

Surprisingly after my walk, I felt quite refreshed depsite the jet lag. So much so, I decided to go for a run to the "nearby" Vondel park (kind of like what Auckland domain or Hagley Park is to us). Ok, mental note, when a dutch tells you anything is nearby, bear in mind that these people cycle and walk everywhere and so, a 45 minutes walk to the Park is considered nearby. It didn't help when you've never been to the city before and constantly having to stop your run to ask for directions. The park itself is very impressive as you will see in the photos. The pictures although speak more eloquently than I can write to describe their beauty, nevertheless, fair to say even the pictures do not do justice to the real thing. It is hard to feel anything but impressed by the serenity and charm of this Park, the tired legs soon forgotten.

A visit to Amsterdam will be incomplete without taking one of the boat tours through some of its popular canals. So together with a big group of Chinese tourists, we set off to explore Amsterdam by water, bathed in the evening sun. My facination of the city deepened as the city's history and tall tales were slowly narrated to us by a voice recording tour guide, in 5 different languages, very entertaining. From the photos I took, you will see the kind of boats we were in and the views that greeted us as we glide over the water.

(Some of the houses by the canal, very cool aye?

I have taken for granted how smokefree NZ is until I got here. I'm not just talking about pot smoke either. Almost everybody smokes here. It is actually a rare nasal delight when you can discover fresh clean air while walking outside. This perhaps would be my only disatisfaction with the city. Then again, I suppose this is all part and parcel of visiting a foreign land, the views and indeed the smell will be foreign. As there's many and I mean many small eateries, you also constantly get a whiff of fresh baking, coffee, cheese and Argentinian angus beef steak (saw 12 such restaurants in one day - ok, possibly I would have seen the same on 3 times during my many wrong turns..but still).

On the 2nd day, I went for a nice breakfast. Thought I would easily find cooked breakfasts but surprisingly, this was not to be. Main breakfast food there are like cereals or toast but mainly if you eat outside, often its fresh baked bread and other baking delights like croissants etc.

Went for more walks during the day including visits to the more subdued small residential area called Jordan where you can see more of the real Dutch life and less of the postcard picture type sceneries. It is so easy in this city to walk, walk and do more walking as unlike NZ where most attractions are spread out, here, they are all within walking distance to one another.

Visited the famous Reijkmuseum which features history of Netherlands and also paintings by many of its famous artists like Rembradt and Van Gogh (the latter having his own museum dedicated in his honour).

On my 3rd and last day in Amsterdam, I rented a bike from the "Yellow Bike" company and toured the outskirts of the city, trying very hard to remember cycling on the right hand side and not left! Wearing shorts helped to distract many motorists, mostly males surprisingly, leaving them stunned quick enough for me to escape from either being hit by them for being on the wrong lane or from being yelled at for going too slow. Visited the beautiful Vondel park, a nice botanical garden with lakes and an old museum located inside the park. Also managed to take one picture of a windmill, what tourist will I be if I don't at least get one picture of the windmill!

Amsterdam I have come to discover, can be pronounced in several ways depending on what the city means to you. Let's see, there's Damselham (window display of all sorts of meat, some a bit stale, and some smoked). Then there's And-where,WHAM!(And that is what happened when you don't constantly look out for cyclists coming at you from all direction!). And finally, there's also the Am-stoned,man! Think that's self explanatory :P

I will be rating each place I visit in Europe so for this one, AO's rating: Lots of enchanting, surprising sights and scenes, full of dangerous (yet exciting for many) deeds involving pot,pleasure and pedalling. So, we advise discretion.

Sex, Drugs, Ride & Stroll remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Packed till 2am on the morning of my flight, constantly filled with that common fear everyone has during this time.. "Have I forgotten something and if I have, what is THAT something?!!" As a result of the stress leading up to this trip, the fact that I've quit my job (2 years as a lawyer in Auckland) to pursue a long lifetime dream of gallivanting all over Europe did not exactly dawn upon me until I finally strapped myself in and took a deep breath thankful for not being the last person on the plane (ok, 3rd last, but who was counting!). It wasn't my fault, it was custom, truly!

The flight to Singapore lasted 11 hours and I was conscious about every minute of it dragging ever so slowly by. I read, watched a few movies, do the things you normally do on a plane and sighed heck of a lot. It was great when we finally got to Singapore...but alas, that was only half the journey. After being in transit for 3 hours, we were off again on a separate flight to Amsterdam. 12 painful hours later and after failing to try and adjust to the European time zone, I finally arrived in Amsterdam, groggy, grumpy but also eternally grateful that the long uneventful part of the travel was at least over and the exciting part of my journey is about to begin... an ending before a beginning...

[Saying goodbyes to family and friends]

Monday, 19th September remains copyright of the author M'siankiwi, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs