I nearly didn't come to Gent.
I'd ummed and ahhhed. Though about coming just for the day. Thought about not coming at all. Finally I made a decision. There was a reasonably priced bus leaving from Gent on Monday morning to Paris. Instead of getting up super early for the train from Bruges, I decided to go up on Sunday and spend the night.
Thanks to a post in the last-minute group I found a CouchSurfing host, the bus ticket was booked. I was going to Gent.
I arrived about 10.30am and stored my luggage at the train station. I'd had to remind myself that while the pictures I'd seen looked a lot like Brugge, this time I was in a proper city. Meaning the distance from where I was and where I wanted to get was more than walking distance. I was also without a map (there were none at the train station???) but I took a chance and jumped on a train heading (hopefully) into the centre.
I didn't know much about Gent, so I turned to a post by one of my favourite travel bloggers, Matt, from Landlopers. He was here recently and posted an article called 42 Things I Love About Gent. I picked out a few things that interested me and off I went.
My first stop was the Sunday flower market. Apparently this is a very local thing to visit, although probably not anymore since Matt's site gets thousands and thousands of hits. I strolled through the stalls and wished I could have bought some flowers. Then I had a hot chocolate and piece of cake (the cake was free!!) at a small espresso stand. This is what one does when one arrives at the flower market. Then I continued into town, walked around and found the tourist information. It was one of the best tourist information centres I've ever seen. There was a great selection of free maps and the people at the desk were asking the most basic of questions (always a good sign). I asked for directions to a great waffle place Matt had written about and headed that way, only to learn the waffles aren't served until 2pm.
I went in search of a chocolate place, but that was closed and found myself back at the flower market. This time a second trailer cafe was open - this one serving oysters and champagne. (Apparently this is what one does after they have finished buying their flowers). I was tempted to join in but at nearly 8 euro for half-dozen oysters, I gave it a miss.
I bought some "Gent noses" (proper Dutch name is neuzen) from a street stall. It's a cone-shaped confectionery which the seller described as the diamonds of gent. I was told, after I bought some, that my life was now saved. As I munched on a bread roll and some Griekse Brood (Greek bread) I stumbled across the Graffiti Street. There isn't much graffiti in the city - it all seems be in this one alley. It looked like it belonged in San Francisco or Berlin. Certainly not Gent.
I ate my neuzens by the canal and counted down until 2pm. With time to kill I headed to St Bravos - one of the many many churches in Gent. But this one is home to a "must see" - the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb. This was painted by two Belgium brothers in the early 15th century. My visitors guide compared it to the Mona Lisa. I figured at a cost of only 4 euro and with no lines, I could see what the fuss was all about. The entry fee includes an audio guide, which made the viewing much more interesting. And I was definitely impressed, but it's not really my thing. The Church itself is also beautiful, but I spent most of my time in there giving dirty looks to people ignoring the "No photography" sign. People were not being subtle at all. The lack of respect always frustrates me.
Then it was waffle time!!! Max's supposedly has the best waffles in Gent. Perhaps even in Belgium. The lady at the tourist information said she takes her children there once a year. I ordered a waffled with ice cream, fruit and chocolate. It was yummy but was it worth the 15 euro? I'll be writing a post on it later so you can find out then.
Absolutely stuffed I finally found the energy to walk some more, this time exploring the Patershol, one of the oldest areas of the city. The literal translation of the name Patershol is "Monk's Arse". There was a monastery at the end of the neighbourhood and the sewerage from that flowed into this area, which was were the town's poorest lived. The area now is much nicer and full of lots of restaurants and bars. I spent a while walking around and eventually found a canal to follow round to the port. I kept walking, crossed back over the city centre and started exploring along the other side, eventually coming back to the centre. Every time I find myself back in the main square, I'm always surprise. I'm never where I think I am.
A little tired from walking and still with a couple of hours to kill before meeting my host, I tried to visit the castle, but it was only an hour from closing and they'd stopped letting people in. So I went to the Design Museum, which was probably more up my alley anyway.
I came out and it was nearly dark. I had just enough time to catch the tram back to the station, pick up my bag and ride the tram back into the city. I spent half an hour photographing the city at night before meeting Otto, my CS host.
His home is a beautiful high-ceilinged studio just one street away from the castle. His house is older than Australia and used to be a brothel.
Paris tomorrow.
Sunday, February 10
Saturday, February 9
Day 3 in Brugge
The best thing about Bruges being such a small city is that it doesn't take long to explore. Even after just a day and a half here I felt I'd seen most things I wanted to. Today just left a couple to tick off the list. Being a Saturday, it was market day in one of the main squares. I first visited the Fish Market, which back in the day was extremely popular. It's right on the canal and the boat pulled up and the fish went straight from boat to the market stall. These days, with the canals only used for tourist boats, it's a lot quieter. It still opens most mornings but there is less and less fresh fish and more and more tacky souviners and trinkets.
I barely stopped for a photo before heading to the larger market at 't Zand. At first it seemed to be a weird mix of clothes, linen and people selling items that belong on late-night TV advertisements such as non-stick frypans and magic glass cleaner. I eventually found the fruit, vegetables and flowers tucked down another street. Alon with chickens and rabbits. I love markets but it's such a shame when I'm not in a position to buy anything. I already had my lunch and dinner organised.
Back in 't Zand I found the cheese, deli and bread stalls I'd expected. One bread stall had a huge line of customers. And a tea van was packed with people standing around some tables drinking tea and coffee from tiny cups. I've overheard a lot of locals complain about the number of tourists, so it was nice to see them here, in what must be a big tourist attraction on the weekend.
Speaking of tourists, they were out in force today. The weather wasn't as good as yesterday. The canals were icy. But being a weekend, the visitors appeared. I visited the chocolate museum (not really worth a visit I'd say) and found myself shuffling along the exhibits in a little tourist conga line. I'm so very glad I'm not here in summer. The chocolate museum was interesting, but if I'd had any less time I would have happily skipped it. I bought a combined ticket when I went to the Fries Museum, so figured I may as well go. I did get some free samples. A woman gave a demonstration and just before she handed out the sample she asked if anyone had any questions. I did, and it held up the giving of the samples. I got a dirty look from one lady. Sheesh!
I visited a tea shop a friend had recommended. Good tea and good apple cake. Plus I got a table right near the fire. It was nice to be warm for a bit.
I spent the rest of the afternoon walking along the outskirts of the city, passed a few windmills that line the edge of the old town. I came back to Marcel's by 3pm. He was leaving for work at 4pm so I wanted to make it back before he left.
When it was dark I went for a walk and unsuccessfully searched for a waffle. These things are everywhere during the day but all the little places that serve them close and the bigger places don't want you taking up a table just for a waffle. I'll get one in Ghent tomorrow.
I really like the city at night. Although it was busier tonight (being a Saturday) then it was on Thursday, it's still so much quieter than during the day.
I barely stopped for a photo before heading to the larger market at 't Zand. At first it seemed to be a weird mix of clothes, linen and people selling items that belong on late-night TV advertisements such as non-stick frypans and magic glass cleaner. I eventually found the fruit, vegetables and flowers tucked down another street. Alon with chickens and rabbits. I love markets but it's such a shame when I'm not in a position to buy anything. I already had my lunch and dinner organised.
Back in 't Zand I found the cheese, deli and bread stalls I'd expected. One bread stall had a huge line of customers. And a tea van was packed with people standing around some tables drinking tea and coffee from tiny cups. I've overheard a lot of locals complain about the number of tourists, so it was nice to see them here, in what must be a big tourist attraction on the weekend.
Speaking of tourists, they were out in force today. The weather wasn't as good as yesterday. The canals were icy. But being a weekend, the visitors appeared. I visited the chocolate museum (not really worth a visit I'd say) and found myself shuffling along the exhibits in a little tourist conga line. I'm so very glad I'm not here in summer. The chocolate museum was interesting, but if I'd had any less time I would have happily skipped it. I bought a combined ticket when I went to the Fries Museum, so figured I may as well go. I did get some free samples. A woman gave a demonstration and just before she handed out the sample she asked if anyone had any questions. I did, and it held up the giving of the samples. I got a dirty look from one lady. Sheesh!
I visited a tea shop a friend had recommended. Good tea and good apple cake. Plus I got a table right near the fire. It was nice to be warm for a bit.
I spent the rest of the afternoon walking along the outskirts of the city, passed a few windmills that line the edge of the old town. I came back to Marcel's by 3pm. He was leaving for work at 4pm so I wanted to make it back before he left.
When it was dark I went for a walk and unsuccessfully searched for a waffle. These things are everywhere during the day but all the little places that serve them close and the bigger places don't want you taking up a table just for a waffle. I'll get one in Ghent tomorrow.
I really like the city at night. Although it was busier tonight (being a Saturday) then it was on Thursday, it's still so much quieter than during the day.
Friday, February 8
Day 2 in Brugge
It's February in Europe, so I didn't have high expectations for the weather here. I bought gloves, a beanie, umbrella, waterproof jacket and waterproof shoes. But I've been very lucky so far - despite some poor forecasts for earlier in the week.
Today when I woke up the skies were blue.
I didn't waste much time.
I ran over to the supermarket to get some fresh bread for breakfast. It's something I love doing in Europe. It's not quite the same anywhere else.
I left a note for Marcel (who'd warned me he was likely to sleep into the afternoon as he was two night shifts coming up). Today I was going to be a tourist. Sometimes it's just got to be done. So I started with a walk up the Belfry (yep the one in In Bruges).
The view was awesome. Although just beyond the city there's a lot of industry, which looks strange but I guess it's got to be somewhere. It's 366 steps to the top. Some creative license was taken in the movie because there is wire across the balcony, which you'd expect at this height. So no gangster could throw himself off it.
I resumed my walking in the sun, stopping on a bench to eat my chocolates form Dumon (yesterday's - I didn't buy more!!). More walking. Around some street somewhere (I was just walking with no map, no idea) I saw a cafe called Books and Brunch. Two of my favourite things. I took it as a sign as went in for lunch. The care is lined with books (new and secondhand) which you can buy. A note in the menu said customers are free to read them in the store and don't even have to buy anything...just sit in one of the seating areas and read away. I had some broccoli soup (something to wash the sugar down) and a cup of tea.
I decided to do a cruise on the canal. It's only 8 euro here compared to 70 euro in Venice. The boat trip took 30 minutes and it was good fun. It's nice to look up at the buildings a bit. When walking I tend to keep my eyes at shop level.
I bought my tea cup on this trip (It didn't go to Berlin or London - my two most recent trips) so a Teacup Tale was overdue. I took some photos and walking around a bit more. Belgium is famous for its fries - apparently they were named French Fries because American soldiers mistook Belgium Army staff for French. So it seemed fitting to visit the fries museum here. The museum went through the history of potatoes and their introduction in Europe and Belgium, and then the development of fries. There was a lot of conflicting theories, but Belgium is happy to claim they originated here. They have a fry shop in the basement so I tried fries for the first time. Good, but not sure they are worth all the fuss. How good can fries really be?
In need of a cup of tea I found a tea shop and read my book for a while. When I ordered a scone I was told there would be a 15-20 minute wait because they bake them fresh. Totally OK with me!
Then, more walking and tea cup shops before walking back to Marcel's. He cooked dinner (meat balls in a celery sauce and mashed potato...I'm getting very spoilt by my hosts on this trip) and we spent the evening listening to music. He's a fan of some Australian artists so it was nice to listen to some songs I haven't heard for ages. I also watched the Belgium version of The Voice. Some poor decisions were made. What were the judges thinking???
Today when I woke up the skies were blue.
I didn't waste much time.
I ran over to the supermarket to get some fresh bread for breakfast. It's something I love doing in Europe. It's not quite the same anywhere else.
I left a note for Marcel (who'd warned me he was likely to sleep into the afternoon as he was two night shifts coming up). Today I was going to be a tourist. Sometimes it's just got to be done. So I started with a walk up the Belfry (yep the one in In Bruges).
The view was awesome. Although just beyond the city there's a lot of industry, which looks strange but I guess it's got to be somewhere. It's 366 steps to the top. Some creative license was taken in the movie because there is wire across the balcony, which you'd expect at this height. So no gangster could throw himself off it.
I resumed my walking in the sun, stopping on a bench to eat my chocolates form Dumon (yesterday's - I didn't buy more!!). More walking. Around some street somewhere (I was just walking with no map, no idea) I saw a cafe called Books and Brunch. Two of my favourite things. I took it as a sign as went in for lunch. The care is lined with books (new and secondhand) which you can buy. A note in the menu said customers are free to read them in the store and don't even have to buy anything...just sit in one of the seating areas and read away. I had some broccoli soup (something to wash the sugar down) and a cup of tea.
I decided to do a cruise on the canal. It's only 8 euro here compared to 70 euro in Venice. The boat trip took 30 minutes and it was good fun. It's nice to look up at the buildings a bit. When walking I tend to keep my eyes at shop level.
I bought my tea cup on this trip (It didn't go to Berlin or London - my two most recent trips) so a Teacup Tale was overdue. I took some photos and walking around a bit more. Belgium is famous for its fries - apparently they were named French Fries because American soldiers mistook Belgium Army staff for French. So it seemed fitting to visit the fries museum here. The museum went through the history of potatoes and their introduction in Europe and Belgium, and then the development of fries. There was a lot of conflicting theories, but Belgium is happy to claim they originated here. They have a fry shop in the basement so I tried fries for the first time. Good, but not sure they are worth all the fuss. How good can fries really be?
In need of a cup of tea I found a tea shop and read my book for a while. When I ordered a scone I was told there would be a 15-20 minute wait because they bake them fresh. Totally OK with me!
Then, more walking and tea cup shops before walking back to Marcel's. He cooked dinner (meat balls in a celery sauce and mashed potato...I'm getting very spoilt by my hosts on this trip) and we spent the evening listening to music. He's a fan of some Australian artists so it was nice to listen to some songs I haven't heard for ages. I also watched the Belgium version of The Voice. Some poor decisions were made. What were the judges thinking???
Day 1 in Brugge
Lucie's dad drove me to the train station today.
We were driving along the road and came to what I first thought were abandoned toll booths. Perhaps a new road was built and they no longer charge tolls for this.
Nope.
The Belgium border.
Just like that I was in another country.
It's an experience I've had a few times in the last 18 or so months, but it still amazes me. This just isn't possible in Australia. Drive for days on end and you're still in Australia or in the ocean.
The train from Lille to Brugge would have cost about 40euro, because it would have been the international TGV train. Catching local trains is much cheaper so I'd planned to go from Lille across the border to Kortrijk and then from Kortrijk to Brugge. It would have cost about 15 euro, but Lucie's dad (I realise now I never got her parent's names) offered to drive me to Kortrijkto save me changing trains. My train was then 7euro...a big difference from 40. It always pays to do your research.
My CouchSurfing host had given me directions to catch the bus from the train station in Brugge to his place, but the weather was fine and it didn't look that far so I walked instead. It took me about 40 minutes along the canal. Marcel lives a street or two outside the centre of the city, but it's not a big place so it's still only 10 minutes or so from the centre of the old town.
I spent an hour or so chatting to Marcel before venturing into the old town for a walk around. Brugge is nicknamed Venice of the North (although the people here prefer to call Venice the Brugge of the South). Both cities have canals and lots of twisty, narrow streets but that's where the similarities end as far as I can see.
Brugge, of course, is known for it's chocolate. There are more than 50 chocolate shops here. A few names have cropped up repeatedly in my research so I planned to visit them. I found The Chocolate Line, which a couchsurfer who couldn't host me had suggested I visit. With Valentines Day a week away there's a definite theme in the window displays. I chose some chocolates - you buy them in little boxes, so three for 3.90, or five for whatever, and eight and so on. I chose two and then asked the sales assistant to put in her favourite.
Barely 50 metres down the street I came across Dumon; this one had come up in a lot of guidebooks. I stopped in here for a hot chocolate and got two free chocolates with that. Not bad for 2.50euro. I chose another box of three and decided I better do some walking. I only ate one of the chocolates I bought - a melocake from The Chocolate Line. Marshmellow covered in chocolate with this surprise little biscuit base. Oh my god it was amazing. I knew there was crap chocolate, better chocolate and fancy chocolate but this was a whole other level. I could feel it in my body like a drug and I immediately wanted another. I walked in the opposite direction to the shop.
I spent the next few hours walking down any street that looked interesting. I rarely knew where I was, but when I thought I should start heading back I just looked for the Belfry and walked towards that.
I cooked dinner for Marcel and then we headed out to see the city at night - it's his favourite time to be in the city. There are tourists here all year round. Although the Markt Square was pretty bare, there were still plenty of camera-totting visitors around. Even in the rain. So Marcel prefers to head out after they've all called it a night.
I had my own tour guide as we walked along the canal. We stopped in at a bar where some of his friends work for a quick drink and then continued on walking. We covered A LOT of the city and Marcel pointed out a few things I'll go back and visit. It was 11pm when we walked passed a bar he frequents. We walked straight by but we were just out of view when his phone rang. A mate in the bar had spotted him so we went in for a drink. The bar was only steps from the Markt and I thought that would have made it a prime "tourist trap" but apparently it's really popular with locals. You never can tell.
After about three hours of walking, we called it a night.
We were driving along the road and came to what I first thought were abandoned toll booths. Perhaps a new road was built and they no longer charge tolls for this.
Nope.
The Belgium border.
Just like that I was in another country.
It's an experience I've had a few times in the last 18 or so months, but it still amazes me. This just isn't possible in Australia. Drive for days on end and you're still in Australia or in the ocean.
The train from Lille to Brugge would have cost about 40euro, because it would have been the international TGV train. Catching local trains is much cheaper so I'd planned to go from Lille across the border to Kortrijk and then from Kortrijk to Brugge. It would have cost about 15 euro, but Lucie's dad (I realise now I never got her parent's names) offered to drive me to Kortrijkto save me changing trains. My train was then 7euro...a big difference from 40. It always pays to do your research.
My CouchSurfing host had given me directions to catch the bus from the train station in Brugge to his place, but the weather was fine and it didn't look that far so I walked instead. It took me about 40 minutes along the canal. Marcel lives a street or two outside the centre of the city, but it's not a big place so it's still only 10 minutes or so from the centre of the old town.
I spent an hour or so chatting to Marcel before venturing into the old town for a walk around. Brugge is nicknamed Venice of the North (although the people here prefer to call Venice the Brugge of the South). Both cities have canals and lots of twisty, narrow streets but that's where the similarities end as far as I can see.
Brugge, of course, is known for it's chocolate. There are more than 50 chocolate shops here. A few names have cropped up repeatedly in my research so I planned to visit them. I found The Chocolate Line, which a couchsurfer who couldn't host me had suggested I visit. With Valentines Day a week away there's a definite theme in the window displays. I chose some chocolates - you buy them in little boxes, so three for 3.90, or five for whatever, and eight and so on. I chose two and then asked the sales assistant to put in her favourite.
Barely 50 metres down the street I came across Dumon; this one had come up in a lot of guidebooks. I stopped in here for a hot chocolate and got two free chocolates with that. Not bad for 2.50euro. I chose another box of three and decided I better do some walking. I only ate one of the chocolates I bought - a melocake from The Chocolate Line. Marshmellow covered in chocolate with this surprise little biscuit base. Oh my god it was amazing. I knew there was crap chocolate, better chocolate and fancy chocolate but this was a whole other level. I could feel it in my body like a drug and I immediately wanted another. I walked in the opposite direction to the shop.
I spent the next few hours walking down any street that looked interesting. I rarely knew where I was, but when I thought I should start heading back I just looked for the Belfry and walked towards that.
I cooked dinner for Marcel and then we headed out to see the city at night - it's his favourite time to be in the city. There are tourists here all year round. Although the Markt Square was pretty bare, there were still plenty of camera-totting visitors around. Even in the rain. So Marcel prefers to head out after they've all called it a night.
I had my own tour guide as we walked along the canal. We stopped in at a bar where some of his friends work for a quick drink and then continued on walking. We covered A LOT of the city and Marcel pointed out a few things I'll go back and visit. It was 11pm when we walked passed a bar he frequents. We walked straight by but we were just out of view when his phone rang. A mate in the bar had spotted him so we went in for a drink. The bar was only steps from the Markt and I thought that would have made it a prime "tourist trap" but apparently it's really popular with locals. You never can tell.
After about three hours of walking, we called it a night.
Thursday, February 7
Discovering Arras
The day started with croissants from the bakery in Rouvroy. The suggestion that the French take their bread seriously isn't a stereotype or exaggeration. Lucie told me her family prefers to buy their bread from a boulangerie because the quality is important to them. Even if shopping at a supermarket they will make a separate trip to the boulangerie for bread.
After breakfast I helped Lucie feed two Icelandic horses she cares for. Her doctor took them in after they were horribly neglected and they now live in a giant yard behind his house and surgery. They are old (25 years old!!) so the yard is just enough for them. Lucie pops in once a day to feed them, give them some medicine and just cheer them up a bit.
By the time we got back it was time for lunch. I've mentioned it once and I'll say it again: Lucie's mum is an amazing cook. Lunch started with a cucumber and dill salad and then we had fish cooked with a vanilla and orange sauce. Amazing!! Lucie will be disappointed if she ever visits Australia and I make her a jam sandwich for lunch.
The north of France is a neglected part of the country. The south, with it's sun and beaches, is favoured and people usually only travel in this area to get from Paris to Belgium or perhaps Calais for the tunnel to England or Lille for the Eurostar. This afternoon we visited Arras, the closest "big" town to Rouvroy. It's a beautiful place. We climbed the belfry of the town hall and the view reminded me of a rows of dolls houses. We walked around the Place des Heros and the Grand 'Place. A huge concert used to be held in Palce des Heros (think acts like Coldplay, Greenday, Placebo etc) but the residents in the houses that line the square complained and it's now held at the Citadelle. This year the three-day event will feature Sting, Greenday, The Prodigy, Thirty Seconds to Mars.
We visited a new crepe restaurant to celebrate World Nutella Day (Feb 5), bought some macaroons from one of Lucie's favourite patisserie and a selection of amazing looking treats from her other favourite patisserie for dessert.
At home Lucie's mum cooked vegetable soup with polish sausage, and then we had bread, ham and cheese. This has to be the only country where bread and ham is such a quality meal!!
After dinner Lucie and I went for a drink with her friend Bertie. Bertie was travelling with Lucie when I hosted the two of them in Vancouver in September 2011. Bertie flew back to France from LA but Lucie returned to Vancouver so I saw her again. It really is such a small world. Who would have thought I'd see either of them again let alone catch up for a drink in their home town!!!
After breakfast I helped Lucie feed two Icelandic horses she cares for. Her doctor took them in after they were horribly neglected and they now live in a giant yard behind his house and surgery. They are old (25 years old!!) so the yard is just enough for them. Lucie pops in once a day to feed them, give them some medicine and just cheer them up a bit.
By the time we got back it was time for lunch. I've mentioned it once and I'll say it again: Lucie's mum is an amazing cook. Lunch started with a cucumber and dill salad and then we had fish cooked with a vanilla and orange sauce. Amazing!! Lucie will be disappointed if she ever visits Australia and I make her a jam sandwich for lunch.
The north of France is a neglected part of the country. The south, with it's sun and beaches, is favoured and people usually only travel in this area to get from Paris to Belgium or perhaps Calais for the tunnel to England or Lille for the Eurostar. This afternoon we visited Arras, the closest "big" town to Rouvroy. It's a beautiful place. We climbed the belfry of the town hall and the view reminded me of a rows of dolls houses. We walked around the Place des Heros and the Grand 'Place. A huge concert used to be held in Palce des Heros (think acts like Coldplay, Greenday, Placebo etc) but the residents in the houses that line the square complained and it's now held at the Citadelle. This year the three-day event will feature Sting, Greenday, The Prodigy, Thirty Seconds to Mars.
We visited a new crepe restaurant to celebrate World Nutella Day (Feb 5), bought some macaroons from one of Lucie's favourite patisserie and a selection of amazing looking treats from her other favourite patisserie for dessert.
At home Lucie's mum cooked vegetable soup with polish sausage, and then we had bread, ham and cheese. This has to be the only country where bread and ham is such a quality meal!!
After dinner Lucie and I went for a drink with her friend Bertie. Bertie was travelling with Lucie when I hosted the two of them in Vancouver in September 2011. Bertie flew back to France from LA but Lucie returned to Vancouver so I saw her again. It really is such a small world. Who would have thought I'd see either of them again let alone catch up for a drink in their home town!!!
Tuesday, February 5
Northern France: The Coast
I've been in France barely 24 hours and so far devoured a croissant, a chocolate croissant, four homecooked crepes, a waffle, frites and a slice of gateau. I've forgotten what it feels like to be hungry.
So, yes, I'm back in France. A fourth French stamp was added to my passport just before boarding the Eurostar. This is quickly becoming one of my favourite trains. Not for the price or scenery, but the speed! It has to be one of the perks of living in London. Lille in 90 minutes, Paris in two hours.
I arrived in Lille Europe, crossed the square to Lille Flandres and caught a train to Billy-Montigny, about 45 minutes from Lille. I'm staying with my friend Lucie. We met when I hosted Lucie and her friend, Bertie, in Vancouver in September 2011. They travelled down to LA but Lucie came back to Canada and stayed with me again for a couple of nights. We kept in touch and when I went to Montreal last year I stayed with her for a few days. Now she's back in France so I decided to come visit.
I'm spending three nights with her and her parents. Her mum cooked crepes for dinner last night. Amazing. These were the sweet kind and the table was full of fillings: nutella, backed apples, lemon and sugar, homemade cherry jam, peanut butter, hazelnut spread, apple jelly. So many! I polished off four and washed them down with some cider. I thought perhaps the crepes were on the menu because of my visit, but it turns out it's quite common to have them for dinner. Lucie's parents speak a little English, but Lucie's translating a lot for us. Their other daughter spent some time in Australia so they know a lot about it.
Lucie and I spent the evening catching up. She went to Newfoundland last year a few weeks after I did (she decided to go after seeing my blog posts and photos) and I wanted to hear all about it. She spent a month there (I only had 3 days) and hitchhiked around.
In the morning, despite the forecast for miserable weather, we headed to the Coast, not far from Calais. Turns out the weatherman was wrong because we had blue skies and sunshine, although a LOT of wind.
Our first stop was the coastal hamlet of Ambleteuse. The town now is nothing more than holiday homes and a few restaurants. At this time of year it's a seaside ghost town. A few centuries ago it was a different story. Henry VIII of England built two forts here in 1546 as a bit of an "in your face" to the French kings. Henry II of France had them conquered three years later. At the end of the 17th century, Sebastien Vauban built Fort Mahon at the mouth of the river, which still stands. And it's what took us to Ambleteuse. According to my post-visit research, it's the only coastal fort preserved in France. Ambleteuse's colourful history doesn't end there. Napolean tried to create a harbour with the intention of invading England in 1805. The foundations are still there.
We drove along the Coast to the town of Wimereux. In summer this place would be crazy, but in early February we were lucky to find somewhere for lunch. We wanted frites, which we found at a van set up in a car park. It was still too windy to enjoy them ON the beach, so we just parked on the promenade and ate in the car.
Then it was off to Cap Gris Nez and Cap Blanc Nez. The cliffs of Cap Gris Nez are the closest point of France to England. We could see the cliffs of Dover in the distance (only 34km away). Apparently it's rare to get skies as clear as we had and water as blue, especially at this time of year, but we were lucky. We braved the wind and walked around the point and the maritime security centre that sits up at the lighthouse. Then we drove to Cap Blanc Nez. An obelisk sits at the top commemorating the Dover Patrol, which kept the Channel free from U-boats in World War 1. We could get down to the beach here and see the cliffs from the bottom. Amazing site. I still can't get over the weather.
We drove back to Rouvroy and to an afternoon snack of cake and waffles followed by dinner of salmon and pasta. Lucie's mum is an amazing cook!!
Pics will come when I write a proper post for Pegs on the Line. This is just a quick update so I don't forget anything!!
So, yes, I'm back in France. A fourth French stamp was added to my passport just before boarding the Eurostar. This is quickly becoming one of my favourite trains. Not for the price or scenery, but the speed! It has to be one of the perks of living in London. Lille in 90 minutes, Paris in two hours.
I arrived in Lille Europe, crossed the square to Lille Flandres and caught a train to Billy-Montigny, about 45 minutes from Lille. I'm staying with my friend Lucie. We met when I hosted Lucie and her friend, Bertie, in Vancouver in September 2011. They travelled down to LA but Lucie came back to Canada and stayed with me again for a couple of nights. We kept in touch and when I went to Montreal last year I stayed with her for a few days. Now she's back in France so I decided to come visit.
I'm spending three nights with her and her parents. Her mum cooked crepes for dinner last night. Amazing. These were the sweet kind and the table was full of fillings: nutella, backed apples, lemon and sugar, homemade cherry jam, peanut butter, hazelnut spread, apple jelly. So many! I polished off four and washed them down with some cider. I thought perhaps the crepes were on the menu because of my visit, but it turns out it's quite common to have them for dinner. Lucie's parents speak a little English, but Lucie's translating a lot for us. Their other daughter spent some time in Australia so they know a lot about it.
Lucie and I spent the evening catching up. She went to Newfoundland last year a few weeks after I did (she decided to go after seeing my blog posts and photos) and I wanted to hear all about it. She spent a month there (I only had 3 days) and hitchhiked around.
In the morning, despite the forecast for miserable weather, we headed to the Coast, not far from Calais. Turns out the weatherman was wrong because we had blue skies and sunshine, although a LOT of wind.
Our first stop was the coastal hamlet of Ambleteuse. The town now is nothing more than holiday homes and a few restaurants. At this time of year it's a seaside ghost town. A few centuries ago it was a different story. Henry VIII of England built two forts here in 1546 as a bit of an "in your face" to the French kings. Henry II of France had them conquered three years later. At the end of the 17th century, Sebastien Vauban built Fort Mahon at the mouth of the river, which still stands. And it's what took us to Ambleteuse. According to my post-visit research, it's the only coastal fort preserved in France. Ambleteuse's colourful history doesn't end there. Napolean tried to create a harbour with the intention of invading England in 1805. The foundations are still there.
We drove along the Coast to the town of Wimereux. In summer this place would be crazy, but in early February we were lucky to find somewhere for lunch. We wanted frites, which we found at a van set up in a car park. It was still too windy to enjoy them ON the beach, so we just parked on the promenade and ate in the car.
Then it was off to Cap Gris Nez and Cap Blanc Nez. The cliffs of Cap Gris Nez are the closest point of France to England. We could see the cliffs of Dover in the distance (only 34km away). Apparently it's rare to get skies as clear as we had and water as blue, especially at this time of year, but we were lucky. We braved the wind and walked around the point and the maritime security centre that sits up at the lighthouse. Then we drove to Cap Blanc Nez. An obelisk sits at the top commemorating the Dover Patrol, which kept the Channel free from U-boats in World War 1. We could get down to the beach here and see the cliffs from the bottom. Amazing site. I still can't get over the weather.
We drove back to Rouvroy and to an afternoon snack of cake and waffles followed by dinner of salmon and pasta. Lucie's mum is an amazing cook!!
Pics will come when I write a proper post for Pegs on the Line. This is just a quick update so I don't forget anything!!
Thursday, November 22
Berlin: Day 4 | A culture fix
I've already touched on Berlin's incredible street art. It's everywhere. I had considered doing a street art workshop (I could be a talented street artist without even knowing it), but decided I am all to aware of my lack of artistic talent and opted for just a tour.
I began the day at yet another cafe. This time it was a case of walking around Prenzlauer Berg and finding something that looked good. I ended up walking to the Mitte neighbourhood and into Marketta. There was no English menu but still quite busy. I took that as a good sign. I ate my breakfast (more bread) at a large communal wooden table next to a toasty fire while reading my book. Now that is how to start the morning.
The tour started at 11am and our first stop was the Turkish neighbourhood, Kreuzberg. It wasn't long before we were walking down Oranienstrasse, which I visited on Tuesday. Our guide, Penny, pointed out a lot of things I didn't notice before and gave me the background on things I had seen. The tour was a mixture of education about graffiti and street art (they aren't the same thing), checking out some great pieces around the city, visiting some galleries and even an African beach community, YAAM. The latter was due to be closed down the day we visited. It's a waterfront property and money trumps what the community has going on there. I was surprised it was still open when we were there given the impending eviction.
The below picture is a funny story. The artist, El Bocho, has done his own take on a Czech cartoon called Little Lucy. In the cartoon, Lucy loves her cat. In the street art, Lucy is always trying to kill her cat. Bocho has gone so far as to hang up stuffed cat toys in a noose around the city.
The tour finished up at the alley Annika took me to on my first day in the city (what are they odds) and after I enjoyed my first taste of currywurst from a stand in Hackescher Markt.
I used the rest of the afternoon to expore Prenzlauer Berg. Even though it was a little chilly, it's a great time to visit the city. There are trees everywhere and they look gorgeous with their orange and yellow leaves.
After a stop at another cafe, I jumped on the train again. When I was in Paris I saw an exhibition of Helmut Newton's work at the Grand Palais. His photographs are not to everyone's taste so I won't be surprised if you Google it and wonder what the hell I see in it. But I loved what I saw in Paris. What I forgot was that Newton was from Berlin, before he fled the city (he was Jewish). The Museum of Photography here was built by the Helmut Newton Foundation. It features an exhibition of Newton's personal belongings including condolence letters to his wife, June, and documentary footage of Newton at work. The footage was different to what I saw in Paris.
I caught the train back to Prenzlauer Berg and had a German dinner of schitzel and roast potatoes followed by apple strudel before meeting Annika at Kaffee Burger, a music venue down the road from my hostel. Friends of hers were playing in a band. The music is described as "gypsy pop" and to give you an idea of what that entails, the instruments used by the two bands we saw included a clarinet, accordian, trumpet, double bass and a duck whistle. Of course all the singing was in German - apart from one chorus of one song, although Annika had to point that out to me because I'd stopped paying attention to the lyrics and just enjoyed the music.
I was trying to find a sample of the music and came across this video from the gig I was at. It's the second band that played, Polkageist. Go to about 2:30 and then 5:40 to get a sense of the energy.
I began the day at yet another cafe. This time it was a case of walking around Prenzlauer Berg and finding something that looked good. I ended up walking to the Mitte neighbourhood and into Marketta. There was no English menu but still quite busy. I took that as a good sign. I ate my breakfast (more bread) at a large communal wooden table next to a toasty fire while reading my book. Now that is how to start the morning.
The tour started at 11am and our first stop was the Turkish neighbourhood, Kreuzberg. It wasn't long before we were walking down Oranienstrasse, which I visited on Tuesday. Our guide, Penny, pointed out a lot of things I didn't notice before and gave me the background on things I had seen. The tour was a mixture of education about graffiti and street art (they aren't the same thing), checking out some great pieces around the city, visiting some galleries and even an African beach community, YAAM. The latter was due to be closed down the day we visited. It's a waterfront property and money trumps what the community has going on there. I was surprised it was still open when we were there given the impending eviction.
The below picture is a funny story. The artist, El Bocho, has done his own take on a Czech cartoon called Little Lucy. In the cartoon, Lucy loves her cat. In the street art, Lucy is always trying to kill her cat. Bocho has gone so far as to hang up stuffed cat toys in a noose around the city.
The tour finished up at the alley Annika took me to on my first day in the city (what are they odds) and after I enjoyed my first taste of currywurst from a stand in Hackescher Markt.
I used the rest of the afternoon to expore Prenzlauer Berg. Even though it was a little chilly, it's a great time to visit the city. There are trees everywhere and they look gorgeous with their orange and yellow leaves.
After a stop at another cafe, I jumped on the train again. When I was in Paris I saw an exhibition of Helmut Newton's work at the Grand Palais. His photographs are not to everyone's taste so I won't be surprised if you Google it and wonder what the hell I see in it. But I loved what I saw in Paris. What I forgot was that Newton was from Berlin, before he fled the city (he was Jewish). The Museum of Photography here was built by the Helmut Newton Foundation. It features an exhibition of Newton's personal belongings including condolence letters to his wife, June, and documentary footage of Newton at work. The footage was different to what I saw in Paris.
I caught the train back to Prenzlauer Berg and had a German dinner of schitzel and roast potatoes followed by apple strudel before meeting Annika at Kaffee Burger, a music venue down the road from my hostel. Friends of hers were playing in a band. The music is described as "gypsy pop" and to give you an idea of what that entails, the instruments used by the two bands we saw included a clarinet, accordian, trumpet, double bass and a duck whistle. Of course all the singing was in German - apart from one chorus of one song, although Annika had to point that out to me because I'd stopped paying attention to the lyrics and just enjoyed the music.
I was trying to find a sample of the music and came across this video from the gig I was at. It's the second band that played, Polkageist. Go to about 2:30 and then 5:40 to get a sense of the energy.
Berlin: Day 3 | Exploring the neighbourhoods
Berlin, like most major cities, is full of neighbourhoods so much in contrast to each other you'd think you were in a different city. To make the most of my time here I decided to stay in two different areas - firstly in Schöneberg with my Couchsurfing host Annika, and then in a hostel in Prenzlauer Berg.
On Wednesday morning I left my bag at the hostel and headed to Brandenburg Gate (again) to join a Sandeman's walking tour (again). I've joined Sandeman's tours in Edinburgh and more recently in Prague and always enjoyed them. The tours are free, but you're expected to tip the guide at the end. They make the point - and quite rightly - that it forces the guides to put a lot of effort in.
The three-hour tour covered a lot of ground I'd already seen, but at least this time I had some idea what I was seeing. I really enjoyed revisiting the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. When I'd come by the day before I'd just looked at it from the edge without even knowing what it was. This time I walked through. The concrete slabs are different heights and the ground goes up and down so walking through the maze of paths is eerie. Our guide, Alex, asked at the end what we'd taken from it and some people compared it to what many Jews must have experienced - feeling lost, trapped, unsure of where the enemy was. Apparently the artist who designed it has never spoken about his own interpretation.
Alex led us to a car park in front of some apartment buildings before announcing we were standing on top of Hitler's bunker. One kid on the tour asked if Hitler committed suicide on April 30 or May 1. He was relieved when Alex confirmed it was April 30 - the kid's mum explained he was born on May 1 and didn't want to share his birthday with the day Hitler died.
The highlight of the tour, however, was finally finding out what was up with the pedestrian traffic lights. Some of the green and red men looked as they should, but others had different images.
Here's the story: The little traffic light man is Ampelmännchen. Which isGerman for little traffic light man. No joke. I Googled it. The different lights were introduced in East Berlin to revamp the traffic lights. Ampelmännchen was also part of a road safety program in schools. When the wall fell the city reverted back to the "traditional" signals until the East Berliners got nostalgic and asked for them back. There are stores that sell Ampelmännchen merchandise. I resisted.
The tour finished near Alexanderplatz where I jumped on the underground to head to the Friedrichshain neighbourhood.
In my pre-trip research I'd come across an obscure mention of a cafe called Factory Girl that took my fancy. It was getting dark by the time I hit Simon-Dach strasse, a street filled with cafes and restaurants. Factory Girl specialises in Magnolia - a dessert that's hard to describe. It's a creamy mixture of that almost looks like uncooked cake and comes served with all sorts of toppings. I chose white chocolate and raspberries, and mixed forest fruits. It's inspired by a bakery in New York that I'll have to check out next time I'm there.
After two helpings of magnolia I skipped the train and walked back to the city centre. The TV Tower really helps with my orientation in Berlin. If I can see it and it doesn't look to far away, I just walk. Gets a little tricky when you get closer and tall buildings block it. But I get there eventually.
Back in Prenzlauer Berg I finished my book in the hostel before grabbing some dinner. I'm spending a lot of money on food this trip.
On Wednesday morning I left my bag at the hostel and headed to Brandenburg Gate (again) to join a Sandeman's walking tour (again). I've joined Sandeman's tours in Edinburgh and more recently in Prague and always enjoyed them. The tours are free, but you're expected to tip the guide at the end. They make the point - and quite rightly - that it forces the guides to put a lot of effort in.
The three-hour tour covered a lot of ground I'd already seen, but at least this time I had some idea what I was seeing. I really enjoyed revisiting the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. When I'd come by the day before I'd just looked at it from the edge without even knowing what it was. This time I walked through. The concrete slabs are different heights and the ground goes up and down so walking through the maze of paths is eerie. Our guide, Alex, asked at the end what we'd taken from it and some people compared it to what many Jews must have experienced - feeling lost, trapped, unsure of where the enemy was. Apparently the artist who designed it has never spoken about his own interpretation.
Alex led us to a car park in front of some apartment buildings before announcing we were standing on top of Hitler's bunker. One kid on the tour asked if Hitler committed suicide on April 30 or May 1. He was relieved when Alex confirmed it was April 30 - the kid's mum explained he was born on May 1 and didn't want to share his birthday with the day Hitler died.
The highlight of the tour, however, was finally finding out what was up with the pedestrian traffic lights. Some of the green and red men looked as they should, but others had different images.Here's the story: The little traffic light man is Ampelmännchen. Which isGerman for little traffic light man. No joke. I Googled it. The different lights were introduced in East Berlin to revamp the traffic lights. Ampelmännchen was also part of a road safety program in schools. When the wall fell the city reverted back to the "traditional" signals until the East Berliners got nostalgic and asked for them back. There are stores that sell Ampelmännchen merchandise. I resisted.
The tour finished near Alexanderplatz where I jumped on the underground to head to the Friedrichshain neighbourhood.
In my pre-trip research I'd come across an obscure mention of a cafe called Factory Girl that took my fancy. It was getting dark by the time I hit Simon-Dach strasse, a street filled with cafes and restaurants. Factory Girl specialises in Magnolia - a dessert that's hard to describe. It's a creamy mixture of that almost looks like uncooked cake and comes served with all sorts of toppings. I chose white chocolate and raspberries, and mixed forest fruits. It's inspired by a bakery in New York that I'll have to check out next time I'm there.
After two helpings of magnolia I skipped the train and walked back to the city centre. The TV Tower really helps with my orientation in Berlin. If I can see it and it doesn't look to far away, I just walk. Gets a little tricky when you get closer and tall buildings block it. But I get there eventually.
Back in Prenzlauer Berg I finished my book in the hostel before grabbing some dinner. I'm spending a lot of money on food this trip.
Berlin: Day 2 | A history lesson
Back home in Burnie, the best fish and chips come from the old school take away next to a service station, not the fancy cafe right on the sand. Which place do you think a visitor is going to end up at? Correct. Tourists pay twice as much for crap fish and chips by the beach.
Eating out is one of my favourite things about travelling. In Florence, dinner at il Latini was an experience and a highlight. As was eating a Nutella crepe on the summit of a mountain in the French Pyrenees from a make-shift cafe powered by a generator. But as a traveller, I am disadvantaged when it comes to knowing where to go for a good meal.
So when my CouchSurfing host Annika told me she'd made reservations at a cafe for breakfast I was excited. And with good reason. I could have roamed the streets of Berlin for hours and hours and not had the slightest chance of finding Café BilderBuch.
The cafe, with its tiny front door, is in Schöneberg. Even people who live in the area must walk by without knowing what's inside. At the back of the cafe is a giant living room - it's the only way to describe it. The walls are lined with bookcases, some tables are surrounded by couches, others belong in a fancy dining room. There are antique lamp shades, beautifully framed pictures and lovely knick-knacks around the place. Our table faced a grandfather clock and an artist working away at an easel.
If you go out for breakfast in Germany, don't be expecting pancakes or eggs and bacon. The dishes are mostly some type of meat or fish served with fruit, salad, cheese and bread. I ordered smoked salmon, but couldn't eat that much of it that early in the morning so instead went to work on the bread basket.
Annika had class in the afternoon so I headed into the city. It was forecast to rain every day of my trip, but so far it had held off. Nothing a hood pulled on couldn't handle.
There are apparently some great markets in Berlin, but unfortunately most are held on the weekend. Luckily on the good ones, the Turkish Market at Maybachufer, is open on a Tuesday. The market was mostly food - fruit and veg, cheese, meats, deli items etc. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't stuffed myself on the bread basket.
From the market I toodled off down the road and ended up at Oranienstrasse. I wasn't walking to anything in particular, but then saw this:
I figured it was worth checking it out. It turned out to be a piece commissioned for a street art program. It's done by an artist called Victor Ash. It's often confused as a Banksy and I found out later that some tours even tell people as such. Banksy, a British street artist, uses stencils. This piece though isn't stencil work. When you stand close you can see the faded grid marked out. It's the same technique used in painting the Sistine Chapel. I was slightly disappointed with the Sistine Chapel - perhaps if Michaelangelo painted a giant astronaut I would have found it more interesting.
Oranienstrasse turned out to be packed with some amazing art. I spied some cool looking cafe's too, but that damn bread basket ruined my appetite for hours! I covered a lot of ground on foot, ending up at Tacheles - an abandoned building that was converted into an artists squat. I'd seen pictures of its interior and wanted to see for myself, but it was closed. I found out later city officials shut it a few months ago. Apparently there is some covert access although I'm not sure I'd want to risk it.
In the afternoon I returned to Brandenburg Gate with the intention of joining Sandeman's free walking tour at 4pm. Unfortunately I picked up the summer brochure instead of the winter one that would have told me the 4pm tour doesn't run during winter.
Back to the streets I went, this time walking along Friedrichstrasse - Berlin's major shopping street. I walked all the way down to Checkpoint Charlie. I won't rehash my thoughts on that place - you can read them here.
I visited some museums, including one about the Ministry for State Security - or Stasi, as it was known - and the Topography of Terror. It's fair to say that I learnt more about World War II, the Cold War and the Berlin Wall in those three hours than I did over my 17 years of school and university education.
Eating out is one of my favourite things about travelling. In Florence, dinner at il Latini was an experience and a highlight. As was eating a Nutella crepe on the summit of a mountain in the French Pyrenees from a make-shift cafe powered by a generator. But as a traveller, I am disadvantaged when it comes to knowing where to go for a good meal.
So when my CouchSurfing host Annika told me she'd made reservations at a cafe for breakfast I was excited. And with good reason. I could have roamed the streets of Berlin for hours and hours and not had the slightest chance of finding Café BilderBuch.
The cafe, with its tiny front door, is in Schöneberg. Even people who live in the area must walk by without knowing what's inside. At the back of the cafe is a giant living room - it's the only way to describe it. The walls are lined with bookcases, some tables are surrounded by couches, others belong in a fancy dining room. There are antique lamp shades, beautifully framed pictures and lovely knick-knacks around the place. Our table faced a grandfather clock and an artist working away at an easel.
If you go out for breakfast in Germany, don't be expecting pancakes or eggs and bacon. The dishes are mostly some type of meat or fish served with fruit, salad, cheese and bread. I ordered smoked salmon, but couldn't eat that much of it that early in the morning so instead went to work on the bread basket.
Annika had class in the afternoon so I headed into the city. It was forecast to rain every day of my trip, but so far it had held off. Nothing a hood pulled on couldn't handle.
There are apparently some great markets in Berlin, but unfortunately most are held on the weekend. Luckily on the good ones, the Turkish Market at Maybachufer, is open on a Tuesday. The market was mostly food - fruit and veg, cheese, meats, deli items etc. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't stuffed myself on the bread basket.
From the market I toodled off down the road and ended up at Oranienstrasse. I wasn't walking to anything in particular, but then saw this:
I figured it was worth checking it out. It turned out to be a piece commissioned for a street art program. It's done by an artist called Victor Ash. It's often confused as a Banksy and I found out later that some tours even tell people as such. Banksy, a British street artist, uses stencils. This piece though isn't stencil work. When you stand close you can see the faded grid marked out. It's the same technique used in painting the Sistine Chapel. I was slightly disappointed with the Sistine Chapel - perhaps if Michaelangelo painted a giant astronaut I would have found it more interesting.
Oranienstrasse turned out to be packed with some amazing art. I spied some cool looking cafe's too, but that damn bread basket ruined my appetite for hours! I covered a lot of ground on foot, ending up at Tacheles - an abandoned building that was converted into an artists squat. I'd seen pictures of its interior and wanted to see for myself, but it was closed. I found out later city officials shut it a few months ago. Apparently there is some covert access although I'm not sure I'd want to risk it.
In the afternoon I returned to Brandenburg Gate with the intention of joining Sandeman's free walking tour at 4pm. Unfortunately I picked up the summer brochure instead of the winter one that would have told me the 4pm tour doesn't run during winter.
Back to the streets I went, this time walking along Friedrichstrasse - Berlin's major shopping street. I walked all the way down to Checkpoint Charlie. I won't rehash my thoughts on that place - you can read them here.
I visited some museums, including one about the Ministry for State Security - or Stasi, as it was known - and the Topography of Terror. It's fair to say that I learnt more about World War II, the Cold War and the Berlin Wall in those three hours than I did over my 17 years of school and university education.
Berlin: Day 1
Who knows what attracts people to different countries and places. I couldn’t tell you why I want to go to Alaska, Turkey or spend time road tripping across Montana. I just do. I also couldn’t tell you why I’ve never been that interested in going to Germany. I just wasn’t.
I use wasn’t in the past tense. Despite my lack of interest in Germany, for whatever reason, I’m not one to pass up a cheap flight. I had five days holiday and the flight from Manchester to Berlin was convenient. Well as convenient as an international flight leaving at 6.45am can be.
I met my Couchsurfing host, Annika, about 12pm and by 1pm it felt like I’d known her forever. After lunch and my introduction to German bread – which, by the way, is amazing – we headed into the city.
Our first stop was Brandenburg Gate. It’s a landmark in Berlin and I'm sure I was meant to be excited at the sight of it, but there's only so many European grand structures one can summon enthusiasm for. It’s only a short walk from there to Berlin’s distinctive parliament building, the Reichstag. The Reichstag is a building I can get excited for. The newer part of it (the glass beehive) looks a little odd, but it beats Parliament House in Canberra. Inside is meant to be equally as impressive, but you have to book days ahead to secure a time to go in.
We walked back into the city centre, to the Hackescher Markt area. Knowing I was keen to see some of the city's famous street art, Annika took me to some wonderful little courtyards and alleys I never would have found on my own and then we visited some great art bookshops (some of the photography books were incredible).
On the way home we stopped at the supermarket to get some things to dinner (I had to help Annika cook something with pumpkin - she'd bought one, but had never cooked with it before). We ended up roasting the pumpkin and having it with pasta and a sun-dried tomato pesto. Yum!
I love visiting supermarkets in other countries - sometimes finding the similarities is just as amusing (and enlightening) as the difference.
I use wasn’t in the past tense. Despite my lack of interest in Germany, for whatever reason, I’m not one to pass up a cheap flight. I had five days holiday and the flight from Manchester to Berlin was convenient. Well as convenient as an international flight leaving at 6.45am can be.
I met my Couchsurfing host, Annika, about 12pm and by 1pm it felt like I’d known her forever. After lunch and my introduction to German bread – which, by the way, is amazing – we headed into the city.
Our first stop was Brandenburg Gate. It’s a landmark in Berlin and I'm sure I was meant to be excited at the sight of it, but there's only so many European grand structures one can summon enthusiasm for. It’s only a short walk from there to Berlin’s distinctive parliament building, the Reichstag. The Reichstag is a building I can get excited for. The newer part of it (the glass beehive) looks a little odd, but it beats Parliament House in Canberra. Inside is meant to be equally as impressive, but you have to book days ahead to secure a time to go in.
We walked back into the city centre, to the Hackescher Markt area. Knowing I was keen to see some of the city's famous street art, Annika took me to some wonderful little courtyards and alleys I never would have found on my own and then we visited some great art bookshops (some of the photography books were incredible).
On the way home we stopped at the supermarket to get some things to dinner (I had to help Annika cook something with pumpkin - she'd bought one, but had never cooked with it before). We ended up roasting the pumpkin and having it with pasta and a sun-dried tomato pesto. Yum!I love visiting supermarkets in other countries - sometimes finding the similarities is just as amusing (and enlightening) as the difference.
Wednesday, November 14
Berlin: The obligatory step back in time
Germany. Hitler. The Berlin Wall.
I wasn’t expecting much more from Berlin. Why would I? It’s all anyone really hears about it. As it’s a city I’ve never been too interested in visiting, I’ve never bothered to learn much more about it. In fact, I knew far too little about both issues. The Wall came down in my lifetime yet I was ashamedly uninformed on the subject until last year. After visiting Hiroshima I’m acutely aware how World War 2 ended, but knew practically nothing about how, and more importantly, why, it began.
It’s 23 years since the Berlin Wall came down – the anniversary was on Friday, my last day in the city. Berlin has put that relatively recent event well behind it. It’s wasted no time coming into its own as an edgy, modern, cultural hub. The graffiti and art that covered the West side of the Wall has exploded throughout the city. Berlin’s music and clubbing scene is so intense that it is the new city that never sleeps. Eclectic doesn’t begin to describe the “anything goes” approach to fashion. For me, it’s those sides of the city are worth discovering. But of course, you can’t escape the Berlin’s past.
[caption id="attachment_2843" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="The 1.3km stretch of the East side of the Berlin Wall outside the Topography of Terror"]
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Only a snippet of the 155km Wall is still standing. There’s about 200m standing out front of the Topography of Terror – a museum built on the site of the buildings of the former Nazi security forces. There’s another 1.3km at the East Side Gallery. I saw a slab as part of a display at the Newseum in Washington DC. There’s even a segment in Canberra. You can buy souvenir pieces, but by 1998 enough had been sold to build the Wall twice over.
[caption id="attachment_2844" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="A piece of the Berlin Wall on display at the Newseum in Washington DC. I debated whether to take a photo of this at the time - it seemed to not mean as much as part of a display in a US museum instead of being in Berlin. Call it a principal thing, but I still kind of wish I hadn't taken it, but it illustrates a point here."]
[/caption]
Nearly every tourist to Berlin will leave with a photo of Checkpoint Charlie – one of five former crossing points between East and West Berlin. Although visiting Checkpoint Charlie is like visiting Beyonce at Maddam Tussauds. It’s all fake. Apparently the only remaining authentic item at the checkpoint is the frame around this sign:
The sign itself is a replica. The sand bags are filled with concrete. The guards – which charge €2 for a photo – are actors. Tourists can get a stamp in their passport for a country that no longer exists. This, my travelling friends, is all for show.
The McDonald’s down the street is just tops it off, although it would be more entertaining if it has been built in former East Berlin.
I saw both the Wall and Checkpoint Charlie. Part of me wish I hadn’t set eyes on the latter purely on principal, but there was a great exhibition at the site that made it worthwhile. A visit to Berlin could easily be consumed with visiting reminders of Berlin’s Nazi or Cold War past.. But there is so much more to this city than standing over Hitler’s bunker or walking along the remnants of the Berlin Wall. Berlin’s history is exactly that – history. Berlin has so much more to offer....
I wasn’t expecting much more from Berlin. Why would I? It’s all anyone really hears about it. As it’s a city I’ve never been too interested in visiting, I’ve never bothered to learn much more about it. In fact, I knew far too little about both issues. The Wall came down in my lifetime yet I was ashamedly uninformed on the subject until last year. After visiting Hiroshima I’m acutely aware how World War 2 ended, but knew practically nothing about how, and more importantly, why, it began.
It’s 23 years since the Berlin Wall came down – the anniversary was on Friday, my last day in the city. Berlin has put that relatively recent event well behind it. It’s wasted no time coming into its own as an edgy, modern, cultural hub. The graffiti and art that covered the West side of the Wall has exploded throughout the city. Berlin’s music and clubbing scene is so intense that it is the new city that never sleeps. Eclectic doesn’t begin to describe the “anything goes” approach to fashion. For me, it’s those sides of the city are worth discovering. But of course, you can’t escape the Berlin’s past.
[caption id="attachment_2843" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="The 1.3km stretch of the East side of the Berlin Wall outside the Topography of Terror"]
[/caption]Only a snippet of the 155km Wall is still standing. There’s about 200m standing out front of the Topography of Terror – a museum built on the site of the buildings of the former Nazi security forces. There’s another 1.3km at the East Side Gallery. I saw a slab as part of a display at the Newseum in Washington DC. There’s even a segment in Canberra. You can buy souvenir pieces, but by 1998 enough had been sold to build the Wall twice over.
[caption id="attachment_2844" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="A piece of the Berlin Wall on display at the Newseum in Washington DC. I debated whether to take a photo of this at the time - it seemed to not mean as much as part of a display in a US museum instead of being in Berlin. Call it a principal thing, but I still kind of wish I hadn't taken it, but it illustrates a point here."]
[/caption]Nearly every tourist to Berlin will leave with a photo of Checkpoint Charlie – one of five former crossing points between East and West Berlin. Although visiting Checkpoint Charlie is like visiting Beyonce at Maddam Tussauds. It’s all fake. Apparently the only remaining authentic item at the checkpoint is the frame around this sign:
The sign itself is a replica. The sand bags are filled with concrete. The guards – which charge €2 for a photo – are actors. Tourists can get a stamp in their passport for a country that no longer exists. This, my travelling friends, is all for show.
The McDonald’s down the street is just tops it off, although it would be more entertaining if it has been built in former East Berlin.
I saw both the Wall and Checkpoint Charlie. Part of me wish I hadn’t set eyes on the latter purely on principal, but there was a great exhibition at the site that made it worthwhile. A visit to Berlin could easily be consumed with visiting reminders of Berlin’s Nazi or Cold War past.. But there is so much more to this city than standing over Hitler’s bunker or walking along the remnants of the Berlin Wall. Berlin’s history is exactly that – history. Berlin has so much more to offer....
Finding the magic in Berlin
My first trip overseas was 10 years ago. It was a school trip to Japan. I remember a lot about that trip, but I don't remember being excited. Of course I must have been, but not as much as my next trip, this time to China, four years later. See by then I knew what to expect. I knew the thrill of landing in a new country. Of exploring a new culture, different languages and, of course, the food.
Somewhere between then and waiting in an airport early Monday morning, I lost that feeling.
Usually looking at the departure board makes me giddy. All those flights headed all around the world. I look at the destinations and picture what it will be like to go there one day. I imagined walking up to the ticket counter and booking a seat on the next fight to anywhere. But after a bus and a train to Manchester the night before, tossing and turning in a 12-bed dorm until my alarm beeped at 3.50am and a slow march through security at Manchester airport, this time, I couldn't have cared less.
I finished my last shift at YHA Keswick on Sunday night and had five days before starting at my new hostel. The cheapest suitable flight had me travelling to Germany. A country not really on my "to-go" list, but meh...for £60 return I wasn't too fussy.
I also wasn't too fussy when the flight landed in Berlin and I got another stamp in my passport. On the train into the city I focused on staying awake rather than taking in the scenes outside the window. My CouchSurfing host Annika took me to Brandenburg Gate, one of Berlin's landmarks, and I still wasn't that excited.
Somewhere between then and waiting in an airport early Monday morning, I lost that feeling.
Usually looking at the departure board makes me giddy. All those flights headed all around the world. I look at the destinations and picture what it will be like to go there one day. I imagined walking up to the ticket counter and booking a seat on the next fight to anywhere. But after a bus and a train to Manchester the night before, tossing and turning in a 12-bed dorm until my alarm beeped at 3.50am and a slow march through security at Manchester airport, this time, I couldn't have cared less.
I finished my last shift at YHA Keswick on Sunday night and had five days before starting at my new hostel. The cheapest suitable flight had me travelling to Germany. A country not really on my "to-go" list, but meh...for £60 return I wasn't too fussy.
I also wasn't too fussy when the flight landed in Berlin and I got another stamp in my passport. On the train into the city I focused on staying awake rather than taking in the scenes outside the window. My CouchSurfing host Annika took me to Brandenburg Gate, one of Berlin's landmarks, and I still wasn't that excited.
Saturday, October 27
The Travel Bug - it's just a state of mind
Tasmania is by far one of the most beautiful places in the world. I say that with confidence, having visited many of the places more widely considered to fall into that category. Yet there's so much of Tasmania's beauty I've barely experienced - if at all. Wineglass Bay? I was young and can't really remember it. Cradle Mountain? Fleeting visits for work. Bay of Fires? Haven't been there. In short, I took it all for granted. Assumed I could, and would, visit it all at anytime.
Plonk me in a new city or country and suddenly nothing can wait. Every day is there to be made the most of. It's the usual approach to travel and one of the reasons we love it. We call it The Travel Bug. But I'm beginning to think The Travel Bug is just a state of mind. For me, traveling is becoming less about where I go and more about how I feel and how I behave. When I'm traveling I go out of my way to explore new places, try new things, meet new people and push the limits of my comfort zone.
Turns out, I can do all that from home.
[caption id="attachment_2824" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I took this photo while kayaking at Halong Bay in Vietnam."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_2823" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This was taken on Derwentwater (at Keswick) while I was in between the breakfast and dinner shift."]
[/caption]
I'm working full-time in Keswick - in fact my rostered week is more than 40 hours, not the usual 38. Although my contract was temporary at first, I now have work until my working visa expires in July, so another nine months. It's enough time to contemplate decorating my bedroom. It's worth getting a UK driving licence. In short, I should get comfortable. But I'm not going to.
Getting comfortable is the reason I've been to Sydney, but not walked over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It's the reason I've been to Brisbane and the Gold Coast countless times, but never to the Great Barrier Reef. And the reason I admired the ski fields from my Vancouver apartment every day in winter, but didn't learn to snowboard until the last two weeks of the season.
When I arrived in Keswick, I was a wide-eyed tourist. During the six hours free I had on my split shifts, I would grab a map, pack a lunch and head out into the fells. Then my contract was extended and there went the sense of urgency. I started skipping a day here and there. Even sunny ones (*gasp*). I started to get comfortable.
[caption id="attachment_2821" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out hiking in Jasper while on a one-month trip across Canada."]
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[caption id="attachment_2822" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out for a hike in The Lake District on a day off"]
[/caption]
So I'm back to acting like a tourist and treating the Lake District like any other stop on my travels. I visit the popular tourist destinations. I go on walks just to take photos. I plan weekend sightseeing trips. My traveling may have come to a end for now, but the Travel Bug is very much alive.
Plonk me in a new city or country and suddenly nothing can wait. Every day is there to be made the most of. It's the usual approach to travel and one of the reasons we love it. We call it The Travel Bug. But I'm beginning to think The Travel Bug is just a state of mind. For me, traveling is becoming less about where I go and more about how I feel and how I behave. When I'm traveling I go out of my way to explore new places, try new things, meet new people and push the limits of my comfort zone.
Turns out, I can do all that from home.
[caption id="attachment_2824" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I took this photo while kayaking at Halong Bay in Vietnam."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_2823" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="This was taken on Derwentwater (at Keswick) while I was in between the breakfast and dinner shift."]
[/caption]I'm working full-time in Keswick - in fact my rostered week is more than 40 hours, not the usual 38. Although my contract was temporary at first, I now have work until my working visa expires in July, so another nine months. It's enough time to contemplate decorating my bedroom. It's worth getting a UK driving licence. In short, I should get comfortable. But I'm not going to.
Getting comfortable is the reason I've been to Sydney, but not walked over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It's the reason I've been to Brisbane and the Gold Coast countless times, but never to the Great Barrier Reef. And the reason I admired the ski fields from my Vancouver apartment every day in winter, but didn't learn to snowboard until the last two weeks of the season.
When I arrived in Keswick, I was a wide-eyed tourist. During the six hours free I had on my split shifts, I would grab a map, pack a lunch and head out into the fells. Then my contract was extended and there went the sense of urgency. I started skipping a day here and there. Even sunny ones (*gasp*). I started to get comfortable.
[caption id="attachment_2821" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out hiking in Jasper while on a one-month trip across Canada."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_2822" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Out for a hike in The Lake District on a day off"]
[/caption]So I'm back to acting like a tourist and treating the Lake District like any other stop on my travels. I visit the popular tourist destinations. I go on walks just to take photos. I plan weekend sightseeing trips. My traveling may have come to a end for now, but the Travel Bug is very much alive.
Tuesday, August 21
The Lake District: Keswick
I knew when I applied for my UK working visa last year the timing could have been better. With the global economy the way it was, a smarter choice would have been to stay in my job in Australia - not try to look for one in Britain. But here I am anyway. After a few, admittedly half-hearted, weeks of job hunting, one position really caught my eye. The youth hostel in Keswick, a town in England's Lake District, needed an assistant.The position was advertised as a contract until the end of September, but some shuffling with existing staff meant they only needed someone for two weeks. Two weeks of living in a gorgeous little town in a beautiful area filled with big blue lakes and rolling green hills? Pick me, pick me!!!.
So that's how I find myself here in Keswick. A head's up: it's pronounced Kessick. It has a population of about 5000 and it's a mostly older demographic. The houses are beautiful and it's a B&B paradise. It's also chock-full of tourists. The Lake District is very popular with walkers, as there's a lot of mountains here, including England's highest, Scafell Pike. I'm living in a house next to the hostel right on the River Greta. And when the clouds clear, I look up to see big, fat mountains. It's beautiful.
After just one day of work I was rewarded with three off. The forecast for the weekend was a bit iffy so I didn't make plans and instead headed out when the skies cleared.
Keswick sits at one end of Derwentwater, a lovely big lake. On Saturday I walked through town to the riverbank with the intention of having an ice cream and relaxing by the water. One of my favourite things about this countryside is the colour. The paddocks are so green. In some my photos it looks a bit fake, but that's how it is. There is a small hilly paddock that separates the town centre from the river bank with sheep in it, but also a gate where the public can walk in. Quite a few people had taken in picnic chairs and or blankets, just sitting overlooking the water. Dogs were running around but none bothered the sheep.
I bought some food for the ducks and sat on one of the small jetties throwing it into the water. Then I followed one of the walking tracks around the river's edge. The skies had cleared up and the threat of rain had been replaced with
sun. The lake edges are rather jagged so quite often I would come to a little tip that looked out over the water. Then I would decide perhaps I would walk on just a bit further. This continued for a while. About 4km. Most of the track was flat, although a bit sloppy from the morning's rain. I'd be walking along the water for a few hundred metres, then through the bush, appear at a gate and head across a field, then back to the water. I eventfully settled on Lodore Falls as my destination, which is nearly at the other end of the lake.
The recent rain meant the falls were quite full. Apparently they dry up a lot when the weather is fine. I doubt that's a common occurrence though. I considered walking right round the lake, but I was without a map and it looked
a bit more hilly on the other side. I didn't want to risk biting of more than I could walk before it got dark. Most of the walkers I had met on the trail were quite well equipped. I had a camera, a water bottle and half a bag of duck food.I retraced my steps: along the little stone fences, past the canoeists taking a break on the shore, overtook the seasoned hikers with their backpacks and walking poles and finally reached the ducks, with whom I shared the last of the duck food.
Monday, August 20
Edinburgh Fringe Festival with no pineapple
If the title of this post is lost on you I can only assume you have not experienced one of the greatest TV shows of all time. Black Books. It's a BBC show that was screened in Australia on the ABC and features two of my favourite comedians, Dylan Moran and Bill Bailey. If neither of these names sound familiar please stop reading, watch a few episodes and return. Without understanding the greatness that is Black Books, you can't fully appreciate this post.
Back? Brilliant isn't it. If you didn't like it you can stop reading again because we are no longer friends and as such you shouldn't care what I've been up to. (Frankly, you were pushing your luck by not having seen it already). My favourite episode is The Blackout, during which Bernard (Moran's character) turns up at a friend's house with a pineapple....ahhhh the title of my post makes sense now doesn't it. So what does all this have to do with my adventures?
It all started in 1947 when a few small theatre companies gatecrashed the Edinburgh International Festival. These companies intended to take advantage of the crowds in town for the festival, which was showcasing classical music, opera, theatre and dance. Fast forward 65 years and good luck finding a well-known comedian that hasn't performed there. This year The Fringe program features more than 2600 shows over 25 days in 279 venues. It's HUGE! It's a lot of comedy as well as theatre, dance, music, poetry and events such as the debut of the Potter Trail - a Harry Potter themed tour of Edinburgh. The shows are relatively cheap, if not free, and there is far too much to see than you could ever get to. It really is incredible. The Royal Mile is taken over with people (often the performers themselves) handing out flyers, actors in costume giving impromptu performances, buskers and a whole lot of tourists. It takes over the city.
I was in Edinburgh for The Fringe last year but only caught two performances. This year I put in a better effort. I came to Edinburgh to visit one of my best friend's, Yani, with only a vague idea of the shows I wanted to see. But the Fringe is something you can just turn up at. There will be something on. Of the 11 shows I saw, only three I had picked before hand. I found myself at the others because of posters, flyers given to me and sitting in the courtyard of the Three Sisters pub where there was a non-stop program of free shows in six rooms.
My 2012 Ed Fringe show list
Hannah Gadsby: Tassie comedian from Smithton, has appeared on Good News Week a bit. This show wasn't as funny as what she did last year and there was a very weird heckler in the second row.
Eric McElroy: A Yank with British citizenship who's gig was about national identity. He threw in a 9/11 joke. Too soon.
Lucy Cox: She was handing out flyers for her free show "Attractive Audience
Required". Yani and I felt obliged to go. She was funny and sung about guys and dating. Very revealing stuff considering her parents were watching.
A Big Value Comedy Showcase: Three performers plus a host with a thick Glasgow accent. The three were up-and-comers and it showed, but still entertaining. The last was a middle-aged woman who made jokes about menopause. Very original...
Fark: A rather odd performance by Sydney's Madeleine Culp. She was named as best newcomer at the Sydney Comedy Festival. I'm not sure why. It was free though.
It's not us, it's you: A free gig in a yurt (called The Yurt Locker) at the Three Sisters. Four comedians who were not as funny as Steve, a guy in the front row. The host did the "what's your name? What do you do?" thing and Steve turned the tables quickly.
6 Foot Silly: A free gig recommended to my friend Claire and funny as anything. I answered a trivia question and then followed up with a dig at the comedian and got a round of applause. I'll keep you posted on my own upcoming Fringe show.
Bogan Bingo: It was everything you think it would be. We sung to John Farnham. They called Jesus the original bogan and the number 69 "the breakfast of champions". And we played bingo. For free.
The Vocal Orchestra: My one exception to comedy. The group of seven performed all kinds of music - beat boxing, opera, pop, rap - with no instruments. It was amazing.
Axis of Awesome: If you've seen the Four Chord Song then you know who I'm talking about. If you haven't find it on youtube. It's an Aussie trio and Claire and I got a photo after the gig. They lived up to their name. It was awesome.
Most of those shows were awesome and the most expensive was £14. The average was about £5 because we bought the tickets from the half-price outlet and the rest were free. But they were nothing compared to my final Fringe act. After trying in vain to see him when he came to Melbourne (sold out) and Hobart (couldn't get off work), I finally got to see Dylan Moran.
It nearly didn't happen. Despite searching specifically for him, no gigs came up. Then my friend Claire found it. Two shows, one on the 15th, one on the 23rd. I bought a ticket not knowing if I'd be able to make it, but sometimes a slow job market has it's perks and come 8pm on Wednesday night, I was on the edge of my seat at Edinburgh's Playhouse. I'd planned to bring a pineapple, but in all the excitement I simply forgot.
I won't tell you much about the show, but he was great. He really was. It's always odd when you admire someone's work and then see it for real. I kept staring at the stage thinking "I have watched you on TV for hours and hours and now you're right there". He did read his own version of Fifty Shades of Grey and I can only hope he'll publish it.
Four days and 11 shows. It wasn't close to being enough. My thoughts have already turned to Fringe 2013. Bring it.
Back? Brilliant isn't it. If you didn't like it you can stop reading again because we are no longer friends and as such you shouldn't care what I've been up to. (Frankly, you were pushing your luck by not having seen it already). My favourite episode is The Blackout, during which Bernard (Moran's character) turns up at a friend's house with a pineapple....ahhhh the title of my post makes sense now doesn't it. So what does all this have to do with my adventures?
It all started in 1947 when a few small theatre companies gatecrashed the Edinburgh International Festival. These companies intended to take advantage of the crowds in town for the festival, which was showcasing classical music, opera, theatre and dance. Fast forward 65 years and good luck finding a well-known comedian that hasn't performed there. This year The Fringe program features more than 2600 shows over 25 days in 279 venues. It's HUGE! It's a lot of comedy as well as theatre, dance, music, poetry and events such as the debut of the Potter Trail - a Harry Potter themed tour of Edinburgh. The shows are relatively cheap, if not free, and there is far too much to see than you could ever get to. It really is incredible. The Royal Mile is taken over with people (often the performers themselves) handing out flyers, actors in costume giving impromptu performances, buskers and a whole lot of tourists. It takes over the city.
I was in Edinburgh for The Fringe last year but only caught two performances. This year I put in a better effort. I came to Edinburgh to visit one of my best friend's, Yani, with only a vague idea of the shows I wanted to see. But the Fringe is something you can just turn up at. There will be something on. Of the 11 shows I saw, only three I had picked before hand. I found myself at the others because of posters, flyers given to me and sitting in the courtyard of the Three Sisters pub where there was a non-stop program of free shows in six rooms.
My 2012 Ed Fringe show list
Hannah Gadsby: Tassie comedian from Smithton, has appeared on Good News Week a bit. This show wasn't as funny as what she did last year and there was a very weird heckler in the second row.
Eric McElroy: A Yank with British citizenship who's gig was about national identity. He threw in a 9/11 joke. Too soon.
Lucy Cox: She was handing out flyers for her free show "Attractive Audience
Required". Yani and I felt obliged to go. She was funny and sung about guys and dating. Very revealing stuff considering her parents were watching.A Big Value Comedy Showcase: Three performers plus a host with a thick Glasgow accent. The three were up-and-comers and it showed, but still entertaining. The last was a middle-aged woman who made jokes about menopause. Very original...
Fark: A rather odd performance by Sydney's Madeleine Culp. She was named as best newcomer at the Sydney Comedy Festival. I'm not sure why. It was free though.
It's not us, it's you: A free gig in a yurt (called The Yurt Locker) at the Three Sisters. Four comedians who were not as funny as Steve, a guy in the front row. The host did the "what's your name? What do you do?" thing and Steve turned the tables quickly.
6 Foot Silly: A free gig recommended to my friend Claire and funny as anything. I answered a trivia question and then followed up with a dig at the comedian and got a round of applause. I'll keep you posted on my own upcoming Fringe show.
Bogan Bingo: It was everything you think it would be. We sung to John Farnham. They called Jesus the original bogan and the number 69 "the breakfast of champions". And we played bingo. For free.
The Vocal Orchestra: My one exception to comedy. The group of seven performed all kinds of music - beat boxing, opera, pop, rap - with no instruments. It was amazing.
Axis of Awesome: If you've seen the Four Chord Song then you know who I'm talking about. If you haven't find it on youtube. It's an Aussie trio and Claire and I got a photo after the gig. They lived up to their name. It was awesome.
Most of those shows were awesome and the most expensive was £14. The average was about £5 because we bought the tickets from the half-price outlet and the rest were free. But they were nothing compared to my final Fringe act. After trying in vain to see him when he came to Melbourne (sold out) and Hobart (couldn't get off work), I finally got to see Dylan Moran.
It nearly didn't happen. Despite searching specifically for him, no gigs came up. Then my friend Claire found it. Two shows, one on the 15th, one on the 23rd. I bought a ticket not knowing if I'd be able to make it, but sometimes a slow job market has it's perks and come 8pm on Wednesday night, I was on the edge of my seat at Edinburgh's Playhouse. I'd planned to bring a pineapple, but in all the excitement I simply forgot.
I won't tell you much about the show, but he was great. He really was. It's always odd when you admire someone's work and then see it for real. I kept staring at the stage thinking "I have watched you on TV for hours and hours and now you're right there". He did read his own version of Fifty Shades of Grey and I can only hope he'll publish it.
Four days and 11 shows. It wasn't close to being enough. My thoughts have already turned to Fringe 2013. Bring it.
Sunday, August 19
Hello my name is Megan and I'm a bibliophile
BIB • LI • O • PHILE (noun): A person who collects or has a great love of books.
The above is a relatively new term for me, but it has become apparent that a predisposition to sunburn and a quick wit are not the only things I have inherited from my father.
My friend David, who along with his wife Amy have become my family in Scotland, recently took me to visit some of the sights in Carlisle, one of the major towns on the northern border of England. We visited the cathedral and walked around the grounds of the castle before he took me to a second-hand book shop. Talk about saving the best till last. To sum up how I feel in second-hand book stores, I'll use the image below from bookfessions.tumblr.com:
This mainly applies to second-hand book stores - new stores just don't have the same appeal, largely because you know what you'll find. And if you can't find it, they'll order it. But old book stores, well, you could find anything. I didn't realise I felt this strongly about such stores until David took me to Bookcase. My expression at the thought of exploring its 30 rooms of books left David fearing I was going to have a heart attack. It was just too much to take in.
Second-hand books stores are magical places. I still remember the crammed store in New Zealand where I found two gorgeous copies of Winnie the Pooh books for $15 and the Most Beautiful Bookshop in the World in Venice. Scotland has been particularly fun - Edinburgh has so many. After about six weeks in the country my book collection is at 16. I think. I lose track, especially with the Agatha Christie's because they are little and I forget to count the copies I'm carrying in my handbag for emergencies.
My reaction to Bookcase left David and Amy wondering why they hadn't told me about Wigtown - a town filled with second-hand bookshops a short drive away. They weren't the only ones wondering why they hadn't told me this.
My parents are avid readers. The impressive collection we had at the farm was packed into boxes when we moved to Hobart.
Those books remain in boxes under the house yet the bookcase is full again. Lets blame Dad for that. My own collection revolves around three authors: Agatha Christie, Jeffrey Archer and John Grisham - the latter caused a phone call home from my Grade 5 teacher who was concerned when I took a copy of The Client to school. Beyond those three you'll find anything from Harry Potter to a faded copy of Edmund Hillary's High Adventure, the story of his ascent of Everest that I found buried on a table of old books at a market. I've moved on from the little white bookcase filled with Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High I had as a teenager.
[caption id="attachment_2642" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Wigtown"]
[/caption]
On Saturday, a day before I was due to go to Edinburgh to meet one of my best friends, Amy and David were also contemplating a trip to the city to see the Fringe Festival. I had a shower and came back downstairs to be told I had to pack a bag and would be taken Edinburgh the following afternoon. I was then driven to Wigtown, although it took about half an hour to work that out. Since I don't know the area well, I had to wait for a sign of some sort to know what direction we were heading.
There are now about 10 second-hand bookshops in Wigtown, and most of those are in the main street. We started at The Bookshop, Scotland's largest 
second-hand store. Despite the claim to fame, it isn't actually that big, compared to others I've explored. But it was glorious all the same. It's always a good sign when you need ladders to reach the books at the top. Wary of not amassing too great of a collection while I'm overseas, my purchases are restricted to Agatha Christie (I'm on a mission to get all 66 novels and 15 short story collections) and the earliest editions of the Winnie the Pooh books I can find and afford. Of course there are exceptions, but I'm only human.
We fitted in one more store before closing time and then checked into our B&B, the gorgeous Hillcrest House, and drove out to the Isle of Whithorn for dinner. In the morning it was back into the bookshops, the last of which was At the Sign of the Dragon. This was on the outskirts of town in the garage of a house. The owner specialises in fantasy, sci fi and, lucky for me, crime! His Agatha Christie selection rivalled mine and I picked up some I don't think I have already.
[caption id="attachment_2641" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Isle of Whithorn"]
[/caption]
We left just after midday to make it to Edinburgh in time. But there's a book festival late next month so I don't think that will be my last visit to Wigtown.
The above is a relatively new term for me, but it has become apparent that a predisposition to sunburn and a quick wit are not the only things I have inherited from my father.
My friend David, who along with his wife Amy have become my family in Scotland, recently took me to visit some of the sights in Carlisle, one of the major towns on the northern border of England. We visited the cathedral and walked around the grounds of the castle before he took me to a second-hand book shop. Talk about saving the best till last. To sum up how I feel in second-hand book stores, I'll use the image below from bookfessions.tumblr.com:
This mainly applies to second-hand book stores - new stores just don't have the same appeal, largely because you know what you'll find. And if you can't find it, they'll order it. But old book stores, well, you could find anything. I didn't realise I felt this strongly about such stores until David took me to Bookcase. My expression at the thought of exploring its 30 rooms of books left David fearing I was going to have a heart attack. It was just too much to take in.
Second-hand books stores are magical places. I still remember the crammed store in New Zealand where I found two gorgeous copies of Winnie the Pooh books for $15 and the Most Beautiful Bookshop in the World in Venice. Scotland has been particularly fun - Edinburgh has so many. After about six weeks in the country my book collection is at 16. I think. I lose track, especially with the Agatha Christie's because they are little and I forget to count the copies I'm carrying in my handbag for emergencies.
My reaction to Bookcase left David and Amy wondering why they hadn't told me about Wigtown - a town filled with second-hand bookshops a short drive away. They weren't the only ones wondering why they hadn't told me this.
My parents are avid readers. The impressive collection we had at the farm was packed into boxes when we moved to Hobart.
Those books remain in boxes under the house yet the bookcase is full again. Lets blame Dad for that. My own collection revolves around three authors: Agatha Christie, Jeffrey Archer and John Grisham - the latter caused a phone call home from my Grade 5 teacher who was concerned when I took a copy of The Client to school. Beyond those three you'll find anything from Harry Potter to a faded copy of Edmund Hillary's High Adventure, the story of his ascent of Everest that I found buried on a table of old books at a market. I've moved on from the little white bookcase filled with Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High I had as a teenager.[caption id="attachment_2642" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Wigtown"]
[/caption]On Saturday, a day before I was due to go to Edinburgh to meet one of my best friends, Amy and David were also contemplating a trip to the city to see the Fringe Festival. I had a shower and came back downstairs to be told I had to pack a bag and would be taken Edinburgh the following afternoon. I was then driven to Wigtown, although it took about half an hour to work that out. Since I don't know the area well, I had to wait for a sign of some sort to know what direction we were heading.
There are now about 10 second-hand bookshops in Wigtown, and most of those are in the main street. We started at The Bookshop, Scotland's largest 
second-hand store. Despite the claim to fame, it isn't actually that big, compared to others I've explored. But it was glorious all the same. It's always a good sign when you need ladders to reach the books at the top. Wary of not amassing too great of a collection while I'm overseas, my purchases are restricted to Agatha Christie (I'm on a mission to get all 66 novels and 15 short story collections) and the earliest editions of the Winnie the Pooh books I can find and afford. Of course there are exceptions, but I'm only human.We fitted in one more store before closing time and then checked into our B&B, the gorgeous Hillcrest House, and drove out to the Isle of Whithorn for dinner. In the morning it was back into the bookshops, the last of which was At the Sign of the Dragon. This was on the outskirts of town in the garage of a house. The owner specialises in fantasy, sci fi and, lucky for me, crime! His Agatha Christie selection rivalled mine and I picked up some I don't think I have already.
[caption id="attachment_2641" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Isle of Whithorn"]
[/caption]We left just after midday to make it to Edinburgh in time. But there's a book festival late next month so I don't think that will be my last visit to Wigtown.
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