Catalonia!

After a couple of days of Barcelonian madness, I met up with my good friend Ivan and together we caught the train north to the town of Figures; known for its Dali exhibit (which I never made it to) markets, which I never shopped at and Spanish bogans, whom I managed to avoid. We very quickly got out of there, via the local petrol station that sells farm fresh milk supplied by locals. I've seen snacks, soft drinks, even gas bottles in vending machines, but never serve-yourself milk! Love it!!

Next stop was Ivan's place. Unfortunately I never got any pics, probably because I was in hippy bliss and forgot about things like technology. It's not like they had electricity anyway! His place is a little place built in the 13th century and you could smell the history in the thick, thick walls. Their veggie garden was over flowing in abundance and their 24 fat chickens looking happy and healthy with no idea of their future as the household's latest money-making idea. Apparently I should have been disappointed that I was missing slaughtering season by two weeks! I faked regret. Anyway, the only connection to civilisation was the ancient village a couple of k's down the road called Maconet and I would wander down daily to connect with my Oz world and marvel repeatedly at how old, tiny and cute the place was. Here's me in the 'main street'!

And this is the sweet little village from a distance. Quaint eh!

Next Ivan took me to the place of his childhood: Colera. Apparently they named all their towns after scary, infectious things to deter pirates. This is Ivan sitting in front of his old home, the station master's cottage. No frills!

And at the top of the hill over looking 'beach of the dead'.

The hills behind his house.... Some know them as the Pyrenees...

After a few days in hippy heaven, we bid our fond farewells and I headed to the seaside town of Cadeques. Paradise by the sea and what I'd always imagined to be quintessentially Spain.

By night...

Local place of prayer...

Happy me in my ever-present floppy hat, over-sided sunnies and slight sun burn/tan

Innovative gardening..

After two nights of hedonism in the form of backpacker fun with my two new Dutch mates Jean Pierre and Martin, I reluctantly bid farewell to the town that would end up being my favourite in Spain knowing that I had so much more to see before meeting Barks in a weeks time. 

Next stop was the ancient town of Girona. I thought I could just arrive and fall into fabulous accommodation as I'd managed to do in Cadeques but the travel gods weren't so on my side this time and I dragged my damn strawberry suitcase all over town before settling in a place that was like a mix between Russian slums and Faulty Towers. By the time I found it though, I would have been happy with a sack in the corner of a hay shed! I didn't 'click' with the town as much as I had with Cadeques but still appreciated it's ancient beauty for what it was.

My Street! Someone should tell them they spelt it incorrectly though.. Perhaps I'll write a letter...

Construction. I figure the scaffolds are holding up the adjoining walls... I just liked the colours.

View from the outside looking in. The entire town is surrounded in a wall which makes it kind of cosy.

 

7/11 Catalan style!

The bakery!!

Local talent. Would have loved to have seen what he had going on!

Before we move on from Girona, I must share a story of Catalan romance at its best. I was making my way to the train station with my bags etc and was stopped by three guys who'd popped their heads out of their apartment foyer to call me over. The speaker of the group asked if I'd like a coffee. I told him I don't drink coffee, so he asked if I'd like a beer. I replied that it was 9:30 in the morning and so he upped the anti with offering a whisky, when I shook my head, he said, 'how about sex? Good sex? I asked if he meant with all three of them at which point they all nodded enthusiastically. I smiled and declined but left amused and pleased to know 'I still had it'! Go Miss K!!

Next stop, a million train changes to desperately make my way to the nothing town of Matero where Ivan's flat mate was to perform in what I'd understood to be human pyramids; they call it Human Castles (pronounce the 't'.) I didn't think it sounded like a big deal but when I got there hot, late and in danger of sunstroke, I realised the mad journey had been worth it. This is what I found...

Check out this link for the spectical in action. I posted it on youtube for all to marvel at..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUrr2yWB0OQ

And this is what happens when things go wrong...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RxvfP38Je8

As soon as I'd finished been blown away by the castles, boofed by the sun and skyped the fella back home from a Turkish take-away joint, I high-tailed it out of that town ASAP. Lets just say it wasn't pretty and I was fairly certain my future did not lie there. I made it back to Barcelona then used the last scraps of my phone battery, nicked the wireless from a dodgy cafe at Barcelona Sants and decided very quickly that I was off to Benaccassan, a beachside town a few 100k's down the road and deep into the East Coast of Spain. I was about to enter the true unknown.... Ole!

Day in the 'Dam' to 'Barthelona'

Well guess where I am...

That's right, its the home of the bicycle, canals, coffee shops, fabulous art galleries and rain... it seems... and there I was with no umbrella looking veeeeeeeeeeeeery miserable!

I had such high hopes for my revisit to one of my favourite cities in the world, but I did not bank on bucketing cats, dogs and drenched pigeons and very quickly found myself as soggy as a sweat band. Here's a pic of a miserable day in a stunning little town.

 Bikes, bikes and more bikes! May this be the future of Melbourne... one day..

 Matching couple preparing to also leave town... Bless them and their colour coordination, they even match the train!

Needless to say, I survived my cold, wet and battering day and was actually grateful to get back on the cattle-class plane and land in...

Hooooooooooooooooola Barcelona!

But more on that fine city when I return in a couple of weeks...

Nudey Rudies in Canton

So it’s the 14th July 2012 and I'm not really sure if it's first thing Saturday morning, midday or sometime in the afternoon; time travel will do that... but I do know I'm half way in my mammoth flight with seven hours to kill in Canton before embarking on the next torturous leg.


Seven hours I thought, that's heaps of time, hope the hotel they're putting me up in has a pool and great food, well noodles at least... and interesting fellow transit-travelers.... hmmmm, wrong on all accounts.
Firstly, it took over three hours in painful queues with the over-bearing need to go to the loo increasing and the fact that I was over-dressed becoming more and more obvious as the smog-induced tropical temperatures crept into no-mans-land, namely the transit queues of Canton Airport.

After those said three painful hours and finally in the hotel, I was handed a key swipey thingy with the room number handwritten on it and headed up to my room.

By this stage, I was so hot, and busting, and over it, all I could think was to get all my Melbourne winter clothes off as soon as humanly possible.

So I achieved that and also used the loo, hand washed my smalls in the bathroom sink and lay down on the bed to read the hotel menu to see if they mentioned that pool; I didn’t want to shower if I was going swimming first!

Well, I'm lying (facedown thankfully) on the bed with my head around the corner from the door and arse in clear view when the door opens, someone kind of shrieks, apologizes and quickly closes it.

Now most sensible people would think, 'hmmm, someone just entered my room while I was lying on the bed nude, I should probably put some clothes on and figure out why that happened...'

But I wasn’t in a sensible state, after not really sleeping and crossing a couple of time zones, not to mention being dehydrated and just too damn hot; so all I did was go and lock the door properly, (I thought all hotel doors lock automatically, apparantly not; lesson learnt!) and go back to lie down and finish reading the catalogue, still no mention of the pool that was suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure to exist!
After a couple of minutes, there's another knock on the door, better than a walk-in I guess and I was forced to ram my sweaty body into some clothes and open it. The Chinese staff had to use Pictionary, charades and power of the finger point to explain that I was in the wrong room and mine was the next one down the hall. Great!

I grabbed my things and shamefully sauntered as quickly as possible, I didn’t want to run into whom ever had suffered the misfortune of being exposed to my bare, white arse and closed the door fast.... but unfortunately, the poor staff had to interrupt me again to tell me I'd left my wet underwear hanging in the shower and had to go collect. God, the humiliation.
Needless to say, I managed to get everything back, hid in my room till I could stand the moldy walls no longer and spent the day wandering the cigarette-packet, rotting mango and general rubbish laid streets carefully avoiding any contact with potential springers. even going as far as catching an early bus back to the airport, just because I loooooooooove the place so much. BTW, there was no pool.
Another three hours of queues and finally I'm on my flight to Amsterdam. It's somehow 11pm again, (where did like four hours go??!!) and I'm actually relieved to be sitting in a cattle-classical little seat away from the smog, away from the pollution and away from anyone that saw just a little too much of me today and may be under the impression that a particular room in that hotel comes with a few extras, for the bargain price of .... well free... one doesn’t want to set one's standards too high now...

The Map of Tassie

The Map of Tassie!

Well it was in the middle of a miserable Melbourne winter that two classy* ladies decided to escape the bitter winds and sideways rain and spend a fabulous four days in Ye Olde Hobart Town... possibly not the best choice for a sun-change but certainly a great place to clock up spy photos of fluro clothing and meet charming 20-something year old boys with very creative pick up lines... that was for Sue, not me, she got all the testosterone-based attention this trip!

So after wandering the Armageddon-like streets after arriving on Thursday night and finding only a bar with chubby toothless drunken men, we started Friday with a bit of work (best get it over with before its liquid lunchtime!) First stop was a meeting at Theatre Royal to discuss the prospect of a tour of Miss K.

I was immediately in love.....



Theatre Royal: Oldest Working Theatre in Oz!



Chips in a cone and a setting worth kissing by... Sue declined my offer sadly..

Happy Sue in her puffer jacket... much to my disgust but Hobart's pleasure. Boy they love their puffers!!

We both bought new blue jackets!!! Let the cat walk show begin!

Mind you, we've got nothing on Hobart's fine fashion sense!!

Loving the Sidney Nolan piece at MONA, especially as it sets our new jackets off so well... 

One last bevvy at 'Joe's Garage' where we were delighted by the performance of a drunken fella that managed to pull a wedge on his mate so high it was able to wrap over his head and the two fell on the floor in a happy heap no doubt satisfied at their achievement..

So by the end, obviously we were pretty spent... but not as spent as this guy....

Next stop Europe. Stay Tuned!!

*a lie

K in the UK

Well it's good-bye sunshine, farewell every other language than English, so long food that is fresh, we've hit the UK and it's Fringe time, hooray!!! Now... it's just a matter of choosing a show.... hmmmmm
Perhaps this puts things into better perspective...
Cider is the drink of choice in this country and I can tell you, it does NOT come in small volumes!!!

We were lucky enough to score a fabulous if not slightly creepy for the ghosts allowed to roam free apartment right in the heart of East Melbourne, ops, no it wasn't, it just looked a lot like it... who knows what the suburb name was.. who cares, it was walking or at times stumbling distance from the festival hub and it was really, really big!!! It even had a key to a 'private' garden shared by all the other Scottish yuppies in the block. This is our street.. The front door.. our homely kitchen where we actually prepared some real food!!!
This was our favourite street. I suddenly realised that all my tight-arse budgeting for the trip had left me with pounds in my pocket. It was time to spend, spend, spend!!!
A typical Edinburgh street
Some dicks we found in a pub. Their mother's must be so proud!!!
Edinburgh Castle..The building, not the pub in Fitzroy. I was afraid it was going to fall off that steep cliff, it's quite amazing that its managed not to so far!
A travel souvenir I picked up
The break-up. See ya sister, thanks for the laughs!!
A shop display at Heathrow that I simply had to 'capture'Something like 3 days of flying and no sleep to be had. Ahhhh I look good!!!!