End At The End

A tiny patch of cataract-white, antipodean light was visible from the depths of the rabbit-hole. The end was near…

Having seen Davo and eaten my last truly Italian gelati, I rocked up to Firenze Santa Maria train station for my last commute - the night train that would take me from Milan to Barcelona.

I had four days until the flight home.

Four days in sunny Barcelona and then everything was coming to an end…

The train journey from Florence to Milan was a melancholy one. It was very hard to imagine that my life as it had been for the last four months was nearly over. The knowledge that I was going home had made my last couple of weeks in Europe blissfully easy. I had literally nothing to worry about. Everything was booked. I knew where I was going. I’d lost that hum of low level panic that haunts backpackers given incredible freedom and limited safety nets. But now that the home-coming was real and very close I lost my amnesia about all the things I had been escaping while travelling. I’d never really thought that I was travelling to escape, but now it became quite clear that like so many other backpacking 20-somethings, I definitely was. These things were all waiting for me at home along with all the things I had been looking forward to: my family and friends, my bed, my land and my life. I dumped these worries in a little black storage box in the back of my head and hopped on the long night train to Barcelona.

There was five minutes to go until the night train departure time and I was sitting in my compartment alone trying to decide whether I was happy about this or not. I wasn’t. I was going to get bored and worse, I’d start worrying about the things that worried me at home. I heard some young American voices in the corridor and hoped that maybe I would have some English-speaking company to distract me. And so it was that I spent the evening being entertained by a couple of very amusing, passionate architecture students from Milwaukee. They shared their ed wine and MMs, talked very excitedly about an exhibition they saw in Venice and whinged about their cigarette cravings. Poor kids. They were all smokers on a non-smoking 12 hour train ride with only one cigarette stop. Another reason not to smoke....

In the morning I said goodbye to Architecture kids and made my way to Home hostel. The irony of the name of the hostel was not lost on me - my last temporary home before real home. After settling in I went into the city centre and wandered around Las Ramblas for the afternoon and then ate tapas in the evening with Jessica and Zac from Long Beach in L.A. Zac really wanted to come down to Australia for a bit of a tour with his band, but both Zac and Jessica were more than a bit arachnophobic and were a bit worried about our creepy crawlies. I possibly made things worse by telling them about whitetails, redbacks and huntsmen etc. I couldn't resist! I feel it is my duty as an Australian to do the right thing and excitedly tell innocent foreigners about our fabulously dangerous wildlife! It would have been positively Un-Australian not to. But they could hold their own. By the sound of it, they have some rather unpleasant arachnids in California of the rotting-gaping-wound-making variety … we don’t have worse than that. Well, not much worse….

The next day I headed for Park Guell where I happened upon some sort of festival. I love that. Random festival action is always good. I couldn’t work out exactly what it was for though, but I suspect it was a sort of ‘Look how much fun Barcelona is! Yay Barcelona!’ type thingy. There were people carrying red heart shaped balloons, dancers, musicians, kids making hats out of paper plates and free bits of deli sausages on sticks. I ate all but the purple looking one which I deducted was blood sausage by its gross iron-y smell. Mmmm delicious blood...in new and improved sausage form! I wandered around and was drawn towards some Japanese sounding electro which was pumping somewhere higher up in the park. I discovered a stage on which two people with brightly painted faces wearing equally bright kimonos took volunteers from the audience and gave them an extreme make-over. I can only describe what they did as crayzeeee hair-sculpture. It involved bits of wire, plastic flora and fauna, insane colours and an absolute shit load of hair spray. I watched a couple of these transformations and was very surprised that after finishing a new creation one of these kimono-clad people pointed at little ol’ me.

Me?
(I hadn't volunteered.)

She nodded.

I had been chosen...

And so with the help of 3 polystyrene balls, some brightly coloured hairspray, some glittery face paint and a wreath of leaves and deliciou plastic fruit I was transformed. And so I moved from ordinary smelly backpacking me to a drag-queeny, female Bacchus sporting some spectacular peacock-like head plumage. Who needs a hat for cup day with hair like that! And so I wandered around the park looking rather strange and glam which meant that all the tourists wanted a pickie with me. “Photo? Photo?” So now I’m in all these random travel snaps posing with absolute strangers who thought I must have been one of the parks many attractions. I should have charged ten Euro a pop…

After wandering I thought it best to go back to the hostel and make myself me again. My very erect hair was pulling on my skull and giving me a cracking headache. Beauty is pain, as they say... Jessica was kind enough to give me some good conditioner to ease my hair out of its rock hard state. In the afternoon I cooked some pasta to share with Zac and Jessica and we chatted for the afternoon. More Goudy was in order on day three. I did Sagrada Familia which looked all candle-wax-melty as it should. On my last day I decided that I would eat out for every meal and spare no indulgence. That was the plan: eating and possibly shoe buying. My poor old Converse Chuck Tailors were looking mighty sad. Both the heals had ripped off the back and fraying holes in the sides. I was open to the possibility of buying yet another pair of leather boots (mmm, leather boots...ahhhh... *lustful dribble*)– but all the ones I liked were upwards off 150 Euro and so I settled for a 15 Euro pair of black velvet Mary Janes instead. I felt rather embarrassed while trying them on. I shoved my decrepit sneakers under the stool and tried to the hide the massive holes in the heals of my socks with the cuffs of my jeans. Post-purchase I chucked my Cons decisively in the bin outside the shop with the sales assistant watching with soft, pity filled eyes. Just as long as she didn't chase me up the street with a broom its all good. Looking like a homeless person is both practical and trendy...*Backpacking chic* I wandered the market on Las Ramblas and found some fantastic opp shops around the traps. I then met Josh, a fellow Melbournian, for some more tapas in the evening for dinner. It was quite surreal imagining that I’d be on the flight home the next morning. I chatted to Josh about the end of my adventures and returning home to the increasingly disturbing antics our federal government, our prurient media and the legion of apathetic, fat, four-wheel-driving, suburban white Australians. Oh joy. Dinner was good - the tapas was a bit mediocre but the appalling way that the barmen pulled beer was absolutely priceless. Josh being quite the beer connoisseur would stop mid sentence and watch in horror as they guy poured a glass that was pretty much 80% head. Noice.

We returned back to the hostel where I packed and had a very interesting conversation with a woman from Adelaide about what I should do in the event that Customs tried to confiscate my delicious Tuscan panforte. We agreed that I should eat it in front of them rather than give it up to be eaten in the Tullamarine staff room. PAN FORTE REVOLUTION! Rise up against the anti-panforte establishment! Next morning I made my way to Barcelona airport and began the long journey home in a pair of black Mary-Janes (my lovely Spanish velvet ones…) and stripy stockings, just like Alice herself. But I wasn’t going deeper into the rabbit hole, I was coming out…

Home. Here it was unchanged. I expected this, but it was still strange.

On my first day I slept.

On the second I went for a walk.

The first thing I noticed was the birds. They are so ubiquitous out here in the North East of Melb– the sound of them, their movement in the sky and in the trees. The next thing I noticed was the light. It’s true what they say about Australian light. Everything is bright and almost overexposed. I walked up to the little Glen Katherine churchyard where I could see all the way out to the Dandenongs without any yellow smog on the horizon only the eucalyptus oil in the air that makes the mountains appear blue. And the smells, the smells! I never thought I’d enjoy the smell of wattle! But I did, with each step there was a new, but familiar smell. And when it rained later on in the week, wow! I went out and savoured that organic, slightly acrid eucalyptus smell that comes after the rain. It only exists here.

Hmmm...

I’ve been thinking about the fact that I can’t get an EU passport. I don’t have recent enough ancestry for that. I’ve also been thinking about how difficult it is to get a US working visa. It seems unfair in some ways, but then I see this land and I think its fair exchange. EU or US passports may be golden tickets to those centres of the Western world, but Australia belongs to me.

*Insert a song about you and me being Aussie here. A bit of guitar, maybe a dash of didgeridoo, some fabo male vocals that are more speaking than singing and you've got it...something that makes you want to plunge barbeque skewers in your ears...that's Aussie.*

Anyway, weird love of country aside, since arriving home I’ve had time to contemplate my adventures down the rabbit hole. I’ve come to the conclusion that travelling is an entirely different type of existence. Yes indeed. A state of constant change, vulnerability and infinite new experiences. It’s also a state where the effects of chance are felt more profoundly. Everything is a dice throw. A missed train, a random decision, a dorm room swap could change your experience entirely. While travelling, time is divided up into destinations rather than days of the week. Worries are all basic and immediate (Where am I sleeping? How will I get there? Where will I get food?) and the process of friendship is delightfully accelerated. There were many times where I felt frustrated, tired and lonely. And many more where I was exhilarated, joyful and fascinated. Everything I felt was keener, sharper, more extreme and like the constant moving on to new cities, no state seemed to last very long. I’d be lying if I said it was easy for me. The commuting and finding of each new hostel was inevitably painful – mainly because of my own anxiety about fucking up. Yay me! No it wasn’t easy, but I’d be understating my experiences by saying that whole thing was splendiferous, incredible, fucking amazing!

And here we are…the end. Now, where is that entrance to the rabbit hole? I want to trip and fall inside it again and see what else is inside…

Rae.
XXXOOO

Southern Descent to the Mediterranean

Hello!

And so here I am in Florence. With less than a week until home.

Home. The place where my bed lives. The place where I can take a shower without having to bring all my toiletries with me. A place with gum trees and supermarkets and cups of Dilmah tea and cheap/delicious restaurants and TV and people who know me...

*Exhale*

HOME.

Less than a week. Wow.

And where have been?

Vienna

Yes, the museum with all the Egon Schiele was fantastic. It was the highlight. I didn't really get into Vienna as a city though, I must say. I really only went for the art galleries of which I only really did one. Alas! I also spent a lovely day with Kim who I met in Cesky Krumlov before I departed to Venice while she planned for Budapest...

Venice

I arrived off the night train, crusty eyed and sore. I stepped outside the station and into the morning sun. My jaw dropped. There it was. Venice. With gondolas on the canals and everything. Wow. I spent 3 days there, and as suggested, I wandered as much as possible around the non-touristy areas and got thoroughly lost and thoroughly delighted many a-time. I didn't really do much but be in Venice. I went to the Peggy Guggenheim, which yes Esther, was flipping awesome. Such a lovely size and weirdly cohesive given it is comprised of really quite different works. Now I've done both the Guggenheims. Sweeeeet...

I stayed in a bungalow in a campground outside the city which although the bungalow was really just a mozzie filled shed, it did allow me a space of my own and thus I slept. Sleep is good. And from then on I have felt infinitely better...

Rome

And having received my second travel wind I headed to Rome, which is really like an ancient history theme park for adults. Yes, I saw all the big famous things. I met some lovely people which made the evenings jolly, even though we all had to perpetually rebuff the calls to come on the nightly 17 Euro pub crawl from a very persistent Sydney-sider. Oh and it was nice to be able to buy GOOD coffee for 1 Euro. Something I didn't think possible in Western Europe.

Certaldo

As recommended, I headed to Certaldo in Tuscany and stayed at Fattoria Bassetto which was lovely. They had a food Festival on up at the Castle which was BRILLIANT. Now let me tell you, I love a free sample. And my-oh-my I had died and gone to free sample heaven! Cheese, cured meets and chocolate... OOOOOOO! I bought some goats cheese and ate some pasta while I looked down at all the red Tuscan tiled roofs and was exquisitely happy. Again, cool people at the hostel. Thus I spent a day with Nina, also from Melb, in Sienna which was very nice indeed. The interior of the cathedral in Sienna is phenomenal - certainly worth the 6 Euro I coughed up to enter. Inlaid marble pictures cover the floor telling epic biblical stories. There were gilded ceilings with all kinds of grotesque beasties and fabulous gargoyles. And it was on the train to Florence...

Florence

A beautiful city, with very long waiting times to see its famous art treasures. I've done the Uffizi, gone to the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio and thus have the statue of David remaining on my must see list. The Uffizi was great. I shed a tear when I saw the Birth of Venus and delighted in the Artemisia’s fabulously gory painting of Judith beheading Helefronese. And the Caravaggio was also fab. I spent a day with fellow from Melb, Craig, who briefly lived in good old Greensy and could lament with all of its short falls with me. And I spent a day with lovely Lahta who I shall call Mini Me, as she is about a head shorter than me and sports the same black bob and even freakier, has an identical swatch-watch. WO! We had fun trying to spot the tackiest piece of bling in the jewelry shops on the Ponte Vecchio. We decided it was a toss up between a jewel encrusted leopard or perhaps a dolphin consuming its own tail. Noice.

So tomoz I'll go and see Davo and then hop on the train to the infamous Milan to catch the connecting night train to Barcelona. My last city...

Rae.
XXXOOOO

Eastern Adventures

Hello Everyone!

Climb down,
then deeper,
turn left.
Open a door with drink-me-coffee
and eat-me-cake,
then squint,
look sideways

...and you'll find yourself in Austria. Vienna of course. Where the coffee is good and migrane-inducingly expensive...

But first there is Berlin...and Prague...and Cesky Krumlov.

BERLIN

After some late night posting I went to bed and got up late, ate some porridge and forced myself out the door and into the day. I went to the Jewish Museum. I wasn't sure whether I should go, for several reasons, but decided in its favour. I was surprised that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed reading about the people and hearing their stories. But so many sad endings... They all seemed incongruous with the stories of their lives. But then, people aren't defined by their deaths, are they? I then bought some fresh veggies and returned to Andy's to cook some thank you stir-fry for Andy and her flat mates. Mmm, it was good to make stir-fry. It's something that is far more enjoyable to cook for others than to cook and eat oneself. Yum. Andy was going to endeavor to be truly Australian and make a pav for dessert, but alas, no egg beaters! So we discussed Australiana vs German culture with her partner Peter and drank tea into the wee hours of the morning. The next day I headed off to see the section of the Berlin wall with the paintings etc, which was interesting. It seems a shame that the original artwork is covered by years of 'Moron Was Here' type graffiti though. Then off I went to the Film Museum, which was delightfully. Film, love-er-ly film! And so I watched the German silent film actresses vamp across the celluloid and then, as suggested by Esther, I oggled Marlene Dietrich. Wow-ee. I think it is humanly impossible to find that woman un-sexy. And so, having oggled to my heart was content, I went to a contemporary art gallery which I believe was called KunstWerke. It was also wonderful. They had a fantastic short film/video art exhibition. Yes, I know... Video art is in the running for the most wanky visual art medium, going head to head with performance art, but really, it was excellent. There were a couple I particularly enjoyed:

* 4 artists arrive in Venice and wankily discuss the meaning of art then brutally murder each other.
* A perpetual line of Catholic schoolboys go up and down inside an elevator confession booth.
* A Bolivian artist, Santo, takes on Matthew Barney (in his satyr manifestation) in Manga style animation.
* Several different girls re-tell a disturbing post sleep-over story in which there is a car accident and someone's mother dies. Who is who? Who is telling the truth?

VERY COOL. I could have spent hours...alas the gallery kicked me out at closing time....

And so I went to Museum Island in search of Black Forest Cake (damn you Dad for putting this delicious idea into my head!). I went to a cafe that was inside what was a palace, don't ask me which one (Michelle? You no doubt know...). Unfortunately there was no Black Forrest Cake, but the truffle cake and coffee was almost as good. And with my belly full of indulgent food, I walked to the Reichstag and got in line with a mass of teenagers and waited to climb up the glass dome. Once up there I peered out at night time Berlin, the TV tower glowing in the distance... And thus I said my goodbyes to Berlin. I had a train to Prague in the morning. And so I left Andy's cosy little apartment, said goodbye to her lovely housemates and went to the station. Thanks to some misleading info in the Eurail timetable handbook, I missed my train and had to wait for two hours for the next one (Thanks Eurail!). I arrived in Prague in the evening when it was a bit too late to venture out and explore the city, much to my annoyance.

PRAGUE

My first impressions of it were slightly disappointing. I soon discovered its pleasures although I do think there is a little too much hype around the city. My first day I wandered around on both sides of the river and went up to the park with the funny little Eeeifal tower thingy and miniscule mirror maze (I was expecting a labyrinth of reflection a-la Something Wicked This Way Comes...). I walked around the gorgeous rose gardens and then sat down and read some of my newly acquired book, Peter Carey's 'Oscar and Lucinda.' I spent my second day wandering around a contemporary art gallery (which I can't remember the name of, but was really very good...), Saint Nicholas Cathedral (where I found the 19th century graffiti very amusing) and the famous castle. On the third day I went to the National Gallery Modern, which had a super collection, though it slightly baffled me having to pay per floor. Those crazy Czechs! After my daily art intake, I went and sat in a lovely autumnal park and read some more of my book. Next stop was Cesky Krumlov.

CESKY KRUMLOV

The bus was sold out when I arrived at the station although I was an hour early. Yet again, I had to wait for the next one which was over 2 hours later.

I drank some coffee. I read some of my book. I peered out into the grey, drizzly fog that enveloped the city. I waited.

Then I hopped on the 1pm bus and chatted with a lovely Canadian, Vivian, for some of the way. I arrived in Cesky Krumlov and after nearly three hours on the bus I was desperate to go to the toilet. Ah, Europe...land of few toilets and the pay-and-pee.

The toilets were locked in the bus station.

I was tired. I had left the hostel in Prague at 8 and had arrived at 4. I was nursing a cold and perpetually sore legs. I was carrying a giant freaking backpack. And I was BUSTING. It was at this moment that I completely lost it. I didn't want to be in Cesky Krumlov. No. I wanted to be somewhere else... I wanted to be a room filled with beautiful, perfectly crafted, delicate, glass objects. I wanted to be in this place and I wanted a cricket bat with which to smash things. If I had had one at the time I think I might have smashed some of the windows in the bus station. The thought of dealing with Czech police managed to prevent me from trying to force the toilet door open by running at it. I chucked a wobbly, witnessed by no one but the miserable little communist-built bus station. I then walked down to a servo where I stomped in, glared angrily at the staff and relieved myself in their restroom as though it were an act of rebellion against the fascist state of no-toilets. It took me longer than it should have to find Krumlov House and by the time I arrived I was angry again. I walked in, was short with Lucia (the girl on the desk) and went straight into the dorm room, took some cold medication for my snotty nose and sore throat and descended into a druggy sleep. All afternoon I could hear distant animated conversation and laughing. I awoke in the evening and zombie shuffled into the kitchen where I was greeted with interested smiles and questions. They were cooking communal apple pancakes with cinnamon and sour cream of which I was welcome to partake. And the angry little creature that is my commuting angst dissolved.

And so began...

THE ADVENTURE OF THE STOLEN NIGHT CASTLE FRUIT AND HOME BAKED PIE

Rumour had it that they were shooting Hostel 2 in Cesky Krumlov down near the bridge before the castle. The irony of this was not lost on us humble backpackers in the homey Krumlov House. Thus Anna from Rosanna, Jesse from Sydney, Kim from Seattle, John from New Jersey, Mark from Vancouver and I went out into the night to see if we could catch a glimpse of the set. We managed to brave the forbidding stares of the Czech security guards and went down and had a look at the set which really looked like it was meant to be a cheesy bar in the tropics rather than somewhere in Eastern Europe. A large devilish cow skull hung above it and the wooden bridge leading to it was dressed with what looked like white human hair. Intriguing... Still feeling adventurous, we decided to go for a night wander in castle grounds. After taking a peak at the castle bears (yes, real ones...) and getting freaked out by the shadows of religious statues, Anna suggested that we pick some fruit in the gardens behind the castle. It was free after all and we had the cover of night. Thus we stumbled down there (me wearing my thongs and getting stung on the feet by some mysterious plants...) where we picked a stack of plums and some apples. Just as we were putting our pickings into our make-shift fruit sack (Anna's Jumper) John said ominously: 'Someone's coming.' Sure enough, we turned to see a figure stomping towards us across the field (Keep in mind we'd just seen the hostel set and were feeling as jumpy and giggly as a bunch of teenagers at a paddock party). We froze in alarm. The figure cleared its throat in the most authoritative manner and we all held our breath. Then there was laughter and the mysterious figure was revealed to be Jesse (the bugger!) who managed to scare the crap out of us. And so we took the fruit back and spent the next day hanging out in the kitchen and making pie from scratch. Jesse, being a young lad of 20 was not intimidated by the idea of making pie pastry, thus made some and made it well. I stewed the fruit up. Jesse and John decorated the pie with hand crafted pastry leaves and then we scooped meringue onto the top.

Stolen night castle fruit makes the best pie.

I was feeling so content at Krumlov House with this bunch of entertaining people that I wanted to stay, but alas, there was no accommodation. On my last night we braved the creepy path to a church on a hill (Jesse and Anna took the short cut and jumped out of the shadows at Kim, John and I - scaring us. Devils.) and looked down at the town all lit up for the filming. On my last day I wandered around and shared a yummy platter of Czech food with Kim before wandering around the Castle gardens in the afternoon. I left on the 4:40 bus to a train station in a nearby town where due to work on the train lines I had to catch a bus to another town. After several confusing interactions with the station staff, I was unable to find the place where the bus departed, thus I missed it and again had 2 hours of waiting in a train station - it took me almost 8 hours to get to Vienna in the end, when it should have been 4 or 5. I wish I was someone who could chill out in these situations, but although I've been traveling for over three months now, I still freak out when these inevitable things happen, as if I were a newbie straight off the plane. But I scrape the bits and pieces of me back together and hawl arse onto the next train with the logical knowledge that everything will probably be OK...

And so I arrived in Vienna, which I'm not going to tell you about because this post is going to be huge. I shall say that I met up with some of the lovely people of Krumlov House and that I have reached new levels in muscle soreness. Tomorrow night I catch the night train to Venice. I'm looking forward to Italy where I can kind of speak the language-ish. Not to mention the food and the dreaming about Death In Venice, one of my favourite stories ...

Anyway, off I go, bad little epic posting me...

Rae.
XXX OOOO

Wee Hour Posting Berlin

Hello Everyone,

Oh my! A second post within two days! What is happening to me - me of the irregular post? A lend of Andy's laptop and wireless connection might have something to do with it. I'll try not to drool on the keyboard as there is nothing quite so delectable to a backpacker as free internet. So yes, I'm staying with the lovely Andy (a good chum of our Michelle) in Kreuzberg. When I arrived she had a bed made up for me in the lounge room with linen and everything. Lovely. Hospitality of this variety makes me want to shed a joyful tear after nearly three months of backpacking. And now here I sit writing my blog while listening to Triple J online which is bliss. I am enjoying listening to it so much I don't want to go to bed though it is past 1am. So I shall tell you what I did today and yesturday to prolong the bliss...

On Saturday I did the walking history tour of the patchwork that is Berlin. New and Old. Communist and Capitalist. Nearly all its Neo-Classical buildings are reconstructions. The real thing can be indentified by pockmarks left by bullets in the battle of Berlin. Incredible. Berlin - a city levelled, burned, divided, rebuilt and united all in less than a century. The history simmers underneath the surface, but the city continues to hum along even with the knowledge of it's dark past. I think the fact that Hitler's bunker is under a harmless looking carpark says something. Though, that is certainly not as strange as the thought that almost the entire adult population lived through the horrible years of the Wall. Imagine living in the place where the ideological border bewteen communism and capitalism was built in brick, cement and barbed wire. The thourght of the Stasi makes me queasy...Though it makes me more queasy that today US bookshops and libraries can be raided for information about who is buying what books just in case your friendly neighbourhood terrorist happens to order his 'How To Get What You Want by Killing People and Getting On TV' manual from the local Barnes & Nobel. How long does it take for the powers at be to get out of control? Take away a bit of freedom here a little bit there... Then Bobs-your-uncle! We've got a Police State! Anyway, twas interesting, though a bit disrupted by the marathon that was on this weekend. Chaos in Berlin. Whuddathunkit? Anyway, I arrived at Andy's in the late evening after the inevitable, super-fun public transport issues. I slept in until 10:30 on Sunday, which was lovely (it can be hard to do so in hostels with people wanting to shuffle and cleaners wanting to clean...) and then went off to Boxhangener Platz fleamarket, an excellent place for people-watching. Oh, the beautiful young people with their 1980's vintage boots, dirty hair, tatoos and dogs. Gosh, do people love dogs here or what? I've seen (and stepped in...) far more dog shit here than in Paris. But it's all good. It's part of the scene... I looked at all the trendy stalls and bought a jumper with a screen print on it (Yes Michelle! I think I may have the SAME angsty pigtailed girl on my jumper as the one on your coat!). Michelle's arty friends Johan and Matteo were there and I said hi and wow-ed at their very surreal, Tim Burton-y, cartoon-like works. I had a felaffel and sat in the park and finished my Margret Atwood novel, 'Alias Grace', which I bought long ago in Santa Fe and am sad to say goodbye to. I had dinner again at Monsieur Vuong, which was again yum (though I don't know that it is better than Indochine in Boxhill. But how can anyone top their Barbecure Specialities? My Mum and Dad are reading this and agreeing heartily). Then I came back hear and logged onto bliss...

And so some news... I shall be returning to merry old Melb on the 26th on October, in about a month's time. I think I'll be ready to come home then. I've shaved a bit of time off my original travel plans, but I will still have travelled for nearly four and a half months (my fucked-up right knee is a testiment to that...) and I'm not missing out on anything I wanted to do. Besides, you have to consider this: Am I get I travelling and experiancing things, or an I just collecting places as if they were snow-globes? Let us ponder...

On that note I shall say cheerio to you likely lads, as it is past 2 and I can hear my bed is siren singing to me from the lounge...



Rae.
XXX OOO

PS: Don't pay any attention to the dates on these posts! They are completely out of whack for some unknown technological reason...

On the Continent

Hello everyone.

So I just arrived in Berlin from Dresden. Such a pretty city! I didn't expect it to look like this, then again, what one imagines a place is like is rarely the reality isn't it? I went to Monsieur Vuong for dinner and had some Pho (Oh Pho! How I love thee!) and then wandered around the Alexander Platz area for a while. I stumbled into a photography gallery that had some sort of function on and slipped in amongst the fray. They had some beautiful photography books that I spent a good hour goggling at. Lots of fun...

Where else have I been?

Paris – the sunny white city of tourist attractions and indulgent foods. The cakes…OH, THE CAKES! “Eat me,” said the pistachio and raspberry angel-cake. “Certainly,” I said and obliged! So yes, I did the touristy things. I saw the Eeeefal and shed the obligatory I’m-actually-in-Paris tear. I went to the Louvre, the Musee DeÓrsay and the Pompidou. The Pompidou was my fave – It had an excellent exhibition about film and art – delightfully pretentious. I was blessed with a hostel with cool people and thus spent a day exploring the Picasso Museum, the Latin Quarter and Pantheon with Mike, a lovely hybrid Canadian/American/Irishman from Dublin (It’s true – he has 3 passports!) who has just become a grown up and started practicing as a doctor after many, many a year at uni. The Pantheon was the most amusing. We stalked around the tombs, hoping not to get irradiated by the corpses of the Curies and tried to figure out who the crap Victor Hugo was (We eventually gathered he was a writer. Learning is fun.) We then marveled at the white, spider-egg-like installation hanging from its dome and tried to figure out why it was there and what was inside the giant sacks (we deduced it was sand and polystyrene balls). I did Notre Dame and the Sacre Cur (spelling?) – the second of which came complete with real singing nuns – like Sister Act, but more somber. I mumbled my way through my interactions in Francaise. I cultivated a fantastic lobotomized ‘I have no idea what you just said’ stare, which I have used frequently since arriving in Germany also. It’s weird having such a powerful tool (ie: language) removed from you. However, the stare proved to be useful when the inevitable hustlers approached asking whether you spoke English. No not me! I may have even told one that wouldn’t leave me alone that I was Yugoslavian thus I had 'no English' (just between you and me, Yugoslavia is no longer a country, but he obviously wasn’t aware of that…). The Parisians (who get such a bad rap…) were tolerant and friendly, though slightly impatient. Such pretty building, such lovely parks, not really as much dog-poo as everyone says!
So Paris – Beautiful, yummy and interesting.

And so Amsterdam. City of pretty, pretty buildings, brown canals, bicycles, 'coffee houses' and whores, whores, whores. I arrived without a hostel booking. Naughty me! Everything was booked out weeks in advance. I found a hostel that left some beds available without booking. Oh yes, they said, just turn up, it will be alright. But no, the promised dorm bed was not available. I was prepared for this eventuality. I sat down in the foyer, ate a nectarine and looked very, very sad, a dishevelled backpacking wretch. ”Excuse me, excuse me miss…” I turn with moist, bunny rabbit eyes, “Alright, you can have a bed…” Success! And so I got a bed while this greasy haired, smelly bogan who insisted upon smoking weed INSIDE our dorm room got to sleep on a mattress on the floor. THIS IS ME NOT CARING. I hired a bike, went to nice vego resturant, saw a movie called Brick which was really quite good and ate some of that crazy Dutch liquorice. I was staying not far from the red light district, so looking into the red windows of the ladies of the night was inevitable - and repugnant. There was one just across the street from the hostel where this rather large woman sat in her window in a patent leather corset with all kinds of devices hanging from the celing like a butchers shop. Interesting. I don't know how I feel about amsterdam... It's a strange place. It's like a bohemian Vegas with an old, artsy Dutch soul. Intriguing.

Dresden - A beautiful city with lots of trendy young people who like their beer gardens and shisha bars. Alas, I spent my first day there locked inside the hostel working on an AFC application, but it had to be done. The second day I wondered around the city, checking out the architecture, eating ice-cream. I've got to the point now since travelling where I have to say to myself - today I shall not eat icecream and no, icecream does not constitute an entire meal. There were some cool people at the Lollis Hostel (thanks Esther for recommneding that one!) and I had some pleasant evening out with some Germans, Brits and Canadians.

So here I am in Berlin. I'm going to do a historic walking tour tomoz with Michelle's old tour company, which shall be informative and fun no doubt.

Thanks for your comments guys! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Mads for the 21st! Harpy Birsday! Harpy Birsday! Harpy Birsday to YOU!

Rae.
XXX OOO

Red Dragons In Cardiff

Hello everyone!

Here I am in Cardiff, a rather pleasant little city indeed. Yes, I have been very naughty and haven't posted for a while. Bad little me hiding down the rabbit hole. So where did I leave you last? Edinburgh, I believe. Edinburgh - the city of many stairs. Those of you that have been know what I'm talking about. So yes, it was pretty, historical and insane due to the festival. I saw about 2 plays a day. One was excellent, it was called the Twylyth Teg and was a delectable, dark little thing based on a Welsh folk story. Quite excellent and did involve - wait for it - Butoh! And the Butoh was good! I was amazed! The other things I saw were respectively disturbing, boring, funny and violent - just seeing people making theatre was excellent. I stayed with some lovely people from Goodenough college, who were performing at the Fringe. They were an eclectic bunch as goodness College is actually accommodation for international postgrad students studying in London. Greece, Chile, the Middle East, Canada, Ireland, New York, Poland - they came from all over the place and were all chums with each other. What an internationally accessible world we live in! And the food - they delightfully cooked delicious communal dinners in the evening and porridge with honey and fruit in the mornings. Mmmm...Porridge... And so begun a mild porridge obsession. So yummy! So filling! Yes, they were lovely and invited me out to various parties with them, one of which was a crazy dance party in an underground tunnel.

And so the adventure of the red jumpsuit and he tunnel party begins...

I was about to go to bed and was all washed and in my pjs when they told me I must, must, must come to this cool party with them. I was tired and all my clothes were in the washing machine. ALL OF THEM. So I declined, but they were not to be reasoned with. They said they would find me clothes. Thus and ultra trendy, vintage wearing Greek girl gave me a 1980's red polyester jumpsuit with giant shoulder pads and an elasticised waist to wear. Yes indeed...And I wore it! I put on the pair of knee high boots I bought in Camden and some red lippy and I was ready to go. I walked out and they applauded my transformation. A polish boy who played the clarinet and always wore a red beret was overcome by the 'colour' and insisted I wear his red beret. So I did. As so we went out and I ventured onto the street looking like a member of ABBA/Glam, early 1980's communist spy. The party was fun - and yes, I received many an interested stare. Was it a costume? Was I serious? Fun indeed.

The festival came to an end and so did my cozy time with those lovely people - many of which possessed names I couldn't pronounce, while they all spoke perfect English. *embarrassing* But it didn't matter and it was fun indeed. And so I moved on to Glasgow where I met...ERIN! Yay! Twas a delight to see her. Together we ventured into the impressive Glasgow Necropolis and the disturbing but educational Religious Life and Art Museum (the horrifying picture on a girl undergoing female circumcision was a keeper...). Then we sought out a tea house in the Westend called Tchai Kovna where we each sampled 2 pots of tea and ate a very nice vego platter. Oh, it was so cosy there! I think Ez and I would have liked to have moved in. So then I sadly say goodbye to Erin and got a plan to Dublin...where I met MICHELLE! Wow-eee. Two and a half years since I had seen her. And yes, we did stuff in Dublin - some of which involved an Oscar Wilde statue (some of you know doubt read about on her excellent blog.) And yes...after Dublin we went to Galway which was pleasant. We ventured out to the Aran Islands, met some exciting animals and ate disappointing cakes. And then we had to say goodbye. I must say it was lovely traveling with someone else although briefly...and doubly lovely that it was Michelle. So off she went to Budapest and off I went..to Sligo, on the North West coast of Ireland, home of Yeats and the Ben Bulben (a big hilly thing that is cool). Sligo is where my Mum's family came from on my Grandma's side. It was cold when I arrived, but several locals remarked to me about how 'warm' it was. They were serious. It's very green out there, but the town had a strange vibe. It's quite a large town and semi-suburban, with lots of pubs and teenagers in school uniforms. There were a multitude of cranes building things - a place rapidly changing after a bleak, poverty filled past - but you could feel the dark past oscillating under the surface of things. It was reflected in the grey stone buildings, the smell of wood fires and the charcoal cloud shifting perpetually across the sky. So it was very interesting. Strange to set foot n the place you know your ancestors lived. I'm glad I went - though it took a piece me with it. My journal. I lost it there. After some frenzied searching, rifling though garbage bins (yes I did this - we Bowens have known been known to do it for precious things...)and some red-eyed questioning of local shop owners - I met a woman who said she saw it on a seat by the river - but didn't pick it up. Woe is me, it wasn't there when I returned. I think some kids probably picked it up and piffed it into the river. So I went and wept into a pint Guinness and farewelled my writings and drawings. And so I shall have to buy a new one. It's actually OK. Most of what was in it was not 'autobiographical recording' so to speak, but creative writing etc, the best pieces of which I remember quite well. Anyway, it seems fitting to loose such a thing that was of 'historical' importance to me, as I'm in this strange state of change the call traveling. That's how I shall console myself anyway. And so I farewelled Sligo and my journal and set of on 14 hours of traveling by bus, ferry and train from the North West coast of Ireland to Cardiff in he South of Wales. I've got a day here (which I've mostly wasted trying desperately to find reasonably priced accommodation in Amsterdam for next weekend...Oh travel admin, how I love thee...) before I'm off to Paris tomoz on the rain from London. I'm REALLY looking forward to getting onto the continent for a change of scenery. I'm feeling less dreadful about the language issue after some encouragement form Michelle and her chums Edo and Stefka (though I wish the phrase books would take pity on those of us who are dyslexically inclined and spelt everything out phonetically rather than using those funny little accents and symbols...Ho hum.)So yes! *EXCITEMENT* Next stop France!

Hope you're all well! Tell me how does life in Melb?

Rae.
XXXX OOO

Boston, New York and London

Oi chaps!

WARNING!!! EPIC POST AHEAD! Might wanna read the bloody thing in stages...if at all...

Here I am in Edinburgh, having arrived yesturday. I've been to London, York and Oxford while in the UK so far. London was strangely enough, grey and raining and just as I remembered it. It even smells the same - a distinct washing powder smell that reminds me of my last visit, 7 years ago. I stayed with my lovely cousin Amber in Peckham, for those who may know where that is... The flight was fine, but yes, the security was insane at JFK airport. I had to line up for 2 hours, take my shoes off and forfeit liquid of any kind before hopping on the plane. The last day in New York was slightly nightmarish...it started well, with a visit to the MET - where I lost my wallet (don't worry, I found it!) which lead to me to miss the bus I wanted to get to the airport (I got there in time anyway...). And OOO! I also gave my thigh a fabulous black bruise while rushing through Union Square station in the subway. Its still there, but purple now - but I like it. It reminds me of New York...Anyway, I survived and arrived in London the following day where I found it delightfully surreal being able to say, 'Yesturday in New York...' Oxford and York were pretty, not much else to say about that. Glad I went.

So now I should tell you about New York and Boston. Both of which are flipping awesome.

BOSTON - probably the most expensive, most snootily 'cultural' and oldest cities in America. It is viewed as the birth place of the American Revolution (You know...the Boston Tea party, John Hancock - first to sign the Declaration on independence - was from Boston etc...). It is the home of chowder, the Red Socks, many a faux Irish Pub, Harvard University and some of the oldest 'burial grounds' in the country. It has a thriving arts, music and youth scene and is a whole bunch of fun. There is also a Bostonian accent - they say the 'ar' sound in words like Australians. Weird!

FREE SHAKESPEARE IN BOSTON COMMON - Boston common is a huge park in the city, complete with willows and a lake with Victorian era swan shaped boats to ride in. I was lucky enough to see the delightfully mysogynistic 'Taming of the Shrew' in the common on my first night it Boston. It was set in the 1950's in Boston's Little Italy and was really very good...
BOSTON HARBOUR - Very pretty. I met some girls from North Carolina who had a given themselves a list of tasks to complete in Boston, one of which was throwing tea bags into the Boston harbour - tres amusement! (They also wanted to take pictures of prostitutes in Chinatown - less classy 'We don't have prostitutes in North Carolina! - Mmm...OK)
HARVARD UNIVERSITY - Now I can say I went to Harvard' and I won't be lying. They wouldn't let me enter the library which was a bit pooh, not being a student and all. The University was established in the 17th century (gosh that's old for an American university!) and the oldest buildings are red brick beauties.
BURIAL GROUNDS - Oh my! I couldn't believe them! They have tombstones from the 17th and 18th century that have skeletons and flying skulls on them - and they are real! They look like props from a cheesy horror movie...
SALEM - kinda touristy, but fun. Lots of cool New England style houses and tacky, tacky twaddle shops selling crap relating to magic and witchcraft. The Witch Museum was hilarious! Who knew that wax dummies, theatrical lighting and an audio commentary of telling the story of the witch trial could be so entertaining AND informative (in the crassest possible way.)
FREE YEAH YEAH YEAHS - Yes, FREE! One of my favourite bands whom I missed in Australia - FREE! They played right in the centre of Boston with TV On The Radio. WOW! Karen O is really quite the rock super star. I particularly like her mike lead calisthenics...
THE COUNTRYSIDE BETWEEN BOSTON & NEW YORK - I took the night train from Washington up to Boston and woke up at about 5am and looked outside my window. Green, green hills with little white New England houses on them. So green and lush and New England. Alas, no pictures...I didn't have my camera on me. Beautiful. And different to what you see here in the UK. Greener, if that's possible...

NEW YORK - The Uber metropolis. The city of all cities. It is bloody HUGE and incredible. I already would like to go back. I felt that I was just skating the surface of it and not really getting into the swelling and shifting on the place and its people. Definitely a place to spend weeks, months or years in.

So what did I do in New York?

All the touristy things - Stanton Island Ferry, Times Square, Central Park, went up a Rockafella centre and peered out at glowing city by night. All of which are fun.
FREE CONCERT IN AN EMPTY POOL IN BROOKLYN - FREE music again! Lots of fun. Deerhoof and Beirut played, amongst others. So many trendy young people all in the one place! New York indeed...
The Art galleries - The Guggenheim and the MET. They are both excellent. GO TO THEM.
THE SUBWAY - I successfully navigated it without getting too lost! It is dirty, packed full of people and sweltering in the summer heat. Didn't see any rats though...POOH.
PEOPLE WATCHING IN WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK - Right near NYU. I think New York is really all about the vibe and the people watching. So many interesting looking people. So many stories. And US$2- falafel round the corner at Mamouns. Hats off to the lovely Jessi from Jersey city who I met in Santa Fe on recommending that one...

I also ran into someone I know from Melbourne. How random is that? I was crossing the street in Chinatown and I hear, 'Rachel!' and sure enough there was Tim Stitz who I met while working on a film that Rita produced called 'I Could Be Anybody' (written and directed by the lovely Lorin Clark - check it out!). He was doing an acting workshop there and had been living in Jersey City for a month or two. We had a drink and a chat, which was lovely. You gets o used to being anonymous and being in places where the possibility of seeing someone you know is miniscule. Incredible.

And so shall we sum up America, now that it is gone...? Yes lets. I has a wonderful time. Loved it. So many fascinating, varied experiences - from the cheesy lights of Vegas, to the lightning storm in Monument Valley to music, people and art in cosmopolitan cities San Fran, Boston to New York and the history, horror of hurtin' of New Orleans. Although the states are 'United' - it's not really one country. It's many. That's why they're so nutty about their flag, why they put it everywhere. The propoganda machine is constantly trying to unify this huge country that was at civil war less than 150 years ago. I recommend a visit and I recommend traveling all over the place to get a real taste of the States. It is a fun and fascinating place - and massively flawed too. As I've said before, there is poverty on a level we don't have in Australia and it is more widespread. I think an Irish guy who worked at the hostel in NY summed it up pretty neatly: It says in the US constitution that everyone is equal, but we know from history that is they are not equal in rights (race, sex, sexual persuasion etc...). What they are equal is the chance to achieve the American dream, thus everyone is seen as responsible for their own social status - despite issues of education, family wealth, prejudice etc. If you live in poverty, we won't help you with health care and decent social security - it's your fault. AMERICA. Fabulous and terribly fraught.

So yes, now I'm in Edinburgh staying with a theatre company, which I must say is really lovely. Hoorah for not being in a hostel and cooked breakfast and dinner for £3- a day. I should really go out and explore...

Miss you all.

Rae.
XXX OOO

Michelle: If you see this please contact me!
Mads: I sent you a postcard! Dunno why you didn't get it. I'll have to try again..
Esther: I haven't sent you apostcardd yet as I didn't get yr address until after I had sent theotherss. Will send one soon.