The Continent: Episode 3 - Toulouse

After leaving the farm I decided to spend 2 nights in Toulouse, the city in which I passed through on my way to Vaour beforehand. I stayed with a couple I found on CouchSurfers. They were both devoted travellers themselves and their apartment was decorated with souvenirs from India, China and other Eastern destinations. On my first day, after meeting my hosts I took a walk through the center of Toulouse. It's called the Pink City - and I soon realised why. The majority of the buildings were made of pastel-pink bricks. Including Cathedrals - which gave them a unique look.
The only real sight seeing I did was visit the Cathedral. I sat in there, staring up at the arched, brick ceiling and sighed to myself. How on earth would I last yet another day being a lonely tourist? I think perhaps an hour passed as I felt sorry for myself - the feeling of being a lone traveller was finally kicking in. Without the busy-ness of the farm and the companionship of my goats, I began to miss home. I decided I would not pressure myself into doing any more sight seeing than I felt bothered to do. Which led me to the town centre, where I sat by the main building. Staring solemnly at the city centre markets full of Africans selling cheap clothes and wooden goods.
I sat there silently for another good hour. Two dark men sat by me and whispered in french - but in a strange accent. One of them began to talk to me, "Excuse me, are you Japanese?" From there he used his bad english to call me beautiful and ask to be my friend. We talked for a while and he then asked if I wanted coffee. I said I wouldn't mind a coffee at all. His friend walked away puffing on his cigarette. We then went to a cafe and ordered espressos. His english was pretty bad. But we managed to talk about life aspirations, he wants nothing more than to find a nice girl and start a family one day, I told him about how I would like to live in the country and pursue a life full of art. He was very kind and chuckled at almost everything.
That night my hosts filled me up with spanish tortilla (the omelette) and apricot tart. They then took me out for a night walk to digest. Toulouse is very beautiful at night. The narrow cobbled streets lighted by warm glowing street lamps. People on their bicycles everywhere, (oh, how I wish Sydney was this bicycle friendly!). The clinking of forks and wine glasses at every corner. We went to the river and I took photos of the beautiful lights on the bridge. People sat below me by the river side on the grass playing guitars and laughing through their cigarette smoke. I told my hosts how I disliked koalas and they proceeded to badgering me about how I could possibly dislike something so cute all the way back home.

The night was unbearably hot. I slept in just my underwear above the covers with the window wide open. BAD IDEA. I woke after two hours of sleep to find my entire body covered in mosquito bites. There were dozens flying around my ears! After a mild panic attack in which I slapped myself all over in hopes of getting rid of them I had given up, as it was simply too hot to even bother wriggling around to avoid bites. I let them feed on me. It was oddly liberating.

The next day I met my Tunisian friend again. We ate kebabs (I like the ones in Australia much, much more) and I let him look through my note book and read my thoughts and small pieces of prose. I knew he didn't know much english but he complimented me on my writing anyway. We went to a park and talked some more, and of course, what I had expected and dreaded to happen did indeed happen. He told me he loved me. "Excuse me, I've only known you for two days!" He told me I could not leave for Barcelona the next morning or else he would have no reason to live. I laughed awkwardly. But eventually convinced him not to worry and that I'm afraid I couldn't say I loved him quite the same... Haha.

That night I met with my friends from the farm in Vaour. They were visiting Toulouse and staying with one of their friends who resided there. I went with them to this friend's house, which was beautiful, modern and full of abstract paintings and pretty post-it notes on the walls. Juliette and I made a tuna fish pie and some hummous. We drank wine until Juliette started talking a bit too fast. Some more of their friends came over and we played a game in which everyone writes a memory and puts it into a hat. One memory is pulled out and everyone has to guess who's memory it is. Juliette has to translate back and forth constantly. I really longed to know French fluently.

The next morning I wrote a note for my hosts as I left early. I left them some cheese that Leonere had given me. And I thanked them greatly for letting me stay.

And then, all of a sudden, there I was, yet on another mode of public transport. Sitting on a bus, stopped at the border of France and Spain and cutting through Baguette with my recently purchased French Laguiole pocket knife. I had a strange sensation - I still couldn't believe everything was going so well.

The Continent: Episode 2 - Des Amis Cheese Farm

After a one night stopover in Toulouse and some incidents with French rail I finally got to the cheese farm, situated in Vaour - a village in the South of France. When I first saw the farm I was quite overwhelmed by the eclectic-to-the-point-of-chaotic look about it. I had to introduce myself to what at the time seemed like dozens of new faces, all in a small kitchen equipped with hanging lamps made of brown paper, dangling herbs and woven baskets knocking about above my head and an explosion of pots, pans and food strewn across every available surface. I met Leonore, a quirky yet humble firey red head who happened to be my boss, as well as some other volunteers: Juliette, Robyn and Naomi. I met Mao - Leonore's partner and together their children which when added up made 8, two of which had their husbands and one of which had a small boy: Luis, who stole my heart immediately. If you think it's a full house already I shall mention that guests were always in and out of the house: neighbours, relatives, friends, customers... so as you can imagine the place was always pretty full!

On my first day, after eating I was expecting to have to get to work straight away. I knew my job consisted of milking cows and goats, assisting with cheese making and feeding the animals. However, after everyone had eaten lunch (all literally sitting shoulder to shoulder around the dining table) they all disappeared. I teetered around aimlessly - feeling lost as not many people spoke any English at all. But when I finally found Leonore to ask her what I should be doing she told me to sleep! Everyone was having their afternoon sieste! Which lasts from abour 1pm to 4pm. So, my first activity at Des Amis was snuggling up in my bed in my tin-bullet of a caravan; situated outback amongst stinging nettles and trees.

I spent a lot of my time on the farm lying on the grass, eating berries and jokingly repeating with Juliette, "Life is hard!" 

My days consisted of getting up at about 6:30am, meeting in the kitchen for morning coffee or tea, going to the barn to milk the goats and cows, eating an enormous breakfast (organic muesli with the farm's own yoghurt, baguette with real fresh flower honey and sometimes eggs from the chicken coop). After breakfast we sometimes had to help Leonore in the cheese room. I liked working in the cheese room; everything in there was wet, cool and white or cream coloured. I liked the repetitive tasks involved in cheese making: skimming fermented milk, putting stuff into moulds, washing the moulds... 

At about 1 we all ate lunch, sometimes I helped to prepare the meals too. But, after lunch, we all had our ridiculously long sieste. I usually slept in the hammock just outside the house which overlooked the French rolling plains. Boogie the male goat was tied up next to me, and I'd fall asleep to the sound of his munching on grass. Every day was routine and every day was quiet. I managed to read novels within 2 days at most; I had all the time in the world. When I wasn't sleeping I was picking red currents and raspberries with Juliette in Mao's garden or swimming in the local river. Sometimes Luis and I would have a giggly time trying to talk French to eachother, although I was pretty awful at it and he usually ending up shaking his head at me. 

Leonore was a really easy-going boss, too. Whenever a mistake was made (spilling half the goat's milk all over the place, leaving the hose on for a day without being aware... forgetting to feed the pigs...) she would always say "it's nothing" in French (ah, even now my French escapes me). She also invited me to local festivals to watch her sing lead in her band "In Ze Night" as well as to markets where she sold her cheese. She treated me to wine and food at such outtings, and on one occassion even bought me a ring! I will always be in awe at how people can be so generous to someone they don't really know. You don't usually get that in the city. 

There were a few pet-peeves I had during my stay, too. One of which was feeding the pigs. I loved them, I really did - but boy, they don't use the term 'greedy pigs' for nothing! Feeding them was crazy! I had to feed them barley and fermented milk from the Fromagerie. As soon as they saw me coming they'd start screaming. And we're not talking about Old Macdonald's cute oink oink sounds - we're talking shrill, ear-piercing, near-death-experience screaming here. And as soon as I'd cross the fence into their pens and try to make my way over to their feeding buckets they'd crowd around my legs, preventing me from moving, and most of the time would resort to jumping on me to get to the food - which meant they'd usually tip it all over the place and I'd end up being soaked through with cheesey liquid. Needless to say, I gave up washing my clothes every day. I just let them get smellier and smellier - no one on the farm cares!

My second peeve was probably not knowing French. I, for once in my life, could not yap my gob off with those around me. I was usually silent for hours at a time, as everyone spoke animatedly in French, laughing at French jokes and debating over French issues. The worst scenarios were when everyone was gathered at the table, Leonore would make an order in French and then I'd watch dumbly as they would all get up and leave the room! I was always left sitting awkwardly and thinking to myself, "should I be doing something here?" But this problem also sped up my French learning process. By the end of my stay I knew and understood a lot more French than I ever had - including during my 2 year studying of French at school. I think most of which I learnt to converse with was to do with eating and food. Seeming that was perhaps the biggest part of all our lifestyles whilst at Des Amis.

When I was feeling alienated from all my French peers I'd visit the barn where the goats live and hang out with my pal, the kid: 07 (as written on her ear-tag). When I first met her she skipped towards me and nuzzled at my knees whilst all the other kids ran away from me. I would sit by her and she'd eat my hair... good times. Whenever I left the barn I could hear her yelling from inside. That sad, ghostly 'baaaaa' will forever echo in my ears...

Juliette was perhaps my closest human friend; seeming as we spent every morning together milking the goats and cows. She had an inspiring back-history from which she emerged from the rubble that was her party-fuelled, pot-clouded urban lifestyle and embarked on a two year adventure over Canada and her home land France, hopping from farm to farm; doing volunteer work. She says she's found her passion and wants to do nothing else with her life except work on farms in the countryside. Sometimes we'd have our freak-outs together when a mistake was made during our tasks. Us both being city-girls at heart - a mistake was usually stressed over - but whenever anything was reported to the more laidback farmers (for example, me telling Mao that a goat was lying dead in the barn "Chevreux est mort!") they'd shrug and say it's nothing. 

Juliette taught me how to make anything into a pie. We made pies with berries we picked, pies with canned tuna and mustard, pies with brown sugar and onions... you name it. I loved to watch her at work in the kitchen. She was so spontaneous with her cooking. Whenever i was assigned to cook something for the dozen people at the farm I almost had a panic attack just organising what to cook! 

Hate to use the term but... "All in all" it was an amazing experience that was perhaps the most eye-opening and influential of all my adventures I had during my travels. For once in my life I was told to sit back and accept what rolls along - I lived life by the minute. I learnt the beauty in creating out of the basics Mother Nature provides, as well as the peacefulness found in accepting "It's nothing" as a response to every worry that reared it's ugly head.

Nights in the top most room, being eaten alive by mosquitoes and watching English movies dubbed in French.

Watching Luis strip down to his underwear, don a pair of goggles and stick his head into a bowl of water - fishing for prunes at the bottom.

Eating a handful of raisins in my hammock, watching tractors create hay bales in the distance.

Going to the outdoor compost toilet in the dead of night, the only light coming from a candle I have to shelter from prevailing winds.

Eating raspberries off my fingertips whilst watching insects crawl over my gumboots.

Life is hard.

Picasa web album: Des Amis Cheese Farm

The Continent: Episode 1 - Reims, France

I suppose there are two questions you are asking right about now. The first being, "This is an extremely delayed update!" and the second being, "What? France? What have you been up to?". To this I say that the answer to the second question is my excuse in regards to the first. I have been up to A LOT. And hence, no real break in time (nor consistent access to the internet) has arisen to properly provide opportunity for writing blog entries.

After the Lake District I tossed and turned in my bed in good ol' Bungay. I was frustrated; I wanted to do something with my time. So, one morning I sat up in bed and decided that instead of finding work I would travel instead. Buying of coach and ferry tickets to France closely followed this sudden decision. My Grandma exclaimed to friends and family about my leaving her in favour of  "The Continent" - (referring to Europe). So, this is the first entry for my first stop on The Continent: Reims, an old city in the North of France where I found that not much happens but where I also found great Champagne and great friends.

I wanted to save as much cash as I could when I travelled. After all, I had about 1000 euros and about 3 months to make do with it. And with European crazy prices I wasn't exactly feeling confident. So, my first decision was to find alternative ways of getting a bed. That's when I found out about CouchSurfing. It's an online community where people can create a profile and search for other profilers willing to host a traveller. It's safe, and seriously.. after my experience I have decided there is no better way to travel!

After some chaotic experiences on British transport and with my one night stop in Dover (don't trust Lonely Planet books!) I arrived in Reims where I drank espresso and drew in my little notebook for a couple of hours before my host came to pick me up. Typical doubts entered my mind: should I trust meeting someone I only know via the internet? Gruesome scenarios of kidnapping, rape and god forbid some obsessive compulsive, overly religious neurotic bitch judging my every action entered my mind. But when I met Caroline I immediately made a cheerful, easy-going friend! We broke the ice by laughing at the language barrier between us. She was trying to tell me that the trains were delayed because of the workers being on strike - however it came out like this, "The workers... they are in... grave." The French word for strike sounds like the English word grave and I was finding myself perplexed at the idea of every French rail worker being dead. After laughing our way to her charming 2 storey flat she offered me her bed - which was not what I had expected of 'couchsurfing' but she insisted on sleeping on her own lounge. I felt like a spoilt kid! That night she introduced me to her friends, we drank Champagne (the drink that was practically created in Reims) and ate lots of pungent cheeses. On this night I was also introduced to the cynical outlook on Reims; Caroline's boyfriend called it the 'Dead Bubble City'... "Because there is a lot of champagne, but nothing going on".

I spent the days walking around and getting lost in Reims. It's an ancient city and is filled with beautiful renaissance architecture. There are many exquisite Cathedrals and Churches with great stained glass art and religious sculptures. My nights were spent with Caroline and her friends. Perhaps one of the more notable outtings was Sebastien's housewarming party. When I arrived I found the house was very very new indeed. In fact, it was almost in pieces as it was in mid-renovation! Debris lay all over the floor, and we amused ourselves by trying to throw plastic rings onto iron rods sticking out from a pile of rubble as well as using toilet freshener cubes as crayons on Sebastien's walls (he would paint over the grafitti - mostly distasteful - later). 
I was lucky to have met Caroline's friends as I was given extra invites to extra places! Geraldine was to visit her parents who lived in a village in the Ardenne, and she invited me along. I stayed for a couple of nights in a bed with giant cat prints on the duvet cover, being fed an insane amount of great tasting homemade food by Geraldine's very french parents - who consequently spoke no English! The village itself was small, quaint and very French as well.

 On the Sunday I watched as the Village people gathered at the large pool-like pond outside the house. This man-made body of water used to be for fire emergencies back in the day, but one day a villager put fish in it and they have multiplied happily ever since. 

Every month the villagers get together, put on their gumboots, and drain the water out of the pool. Don't fret for the fishies, for they were each hand-picked and put into a bucket of water. The bucket would be transferred to the old 'lavoir' (a long rectangular outdoor pool where women used to wash their clothes). Once drained the pond would be scrubbed clean with brushes and brooms. Each villager really put their back into it to leave it sparkling clean. Once the pond was refilled the villagers all came over to Geraldine's parents' house where they drank champagne, ate pretzels and talked about the next step of the tradition. The next step was to buy new fish for next week, put them in, and then fish them out for dinner! The permanent resident fish however were never fished and eaten - after all the new fish would be done away with the villagers would spend yet another weekend taking all the old fish from the lavoir and bringing them back to their home. I watched the first step of this strange tradition and I found the entire idea bizarrely endearing...

As well as experiencing this monthly ordeal Geraldine and I also visited some famous WW1 sites nearby. I got to see the trenches at Verdun and it put an image to what I spent my senior year studying in History.  Seeing the War Memorial and trying to conceive the number of men dead represented by an endless grid of marble crosses was particularly spectacular.

As well as staying with Geraldine I spent a couple of nights with another of Caroline's CouchSurfing friends: Axel. He made great coffee and heavy creamy pastas. He was such an enthusiastic and fun guy. When I met him he was packing up his entire life: getting rid of most of his material possessions and moving to South America to start anew. I remember spending one midnight throwing all of his clothes into charity bins at a deserted carpark. We had fun throwing out his stuff - (I kept one of his sweaters!) and throwing around tennis balls I found in the boot of his car. 

He was also the one who helped me organise my next destination. I wanted to do some volunteer work and found a number of a cheese farm in the South of France who were looking for help. Axel was my translator and he called the farm a couple of times to confirm my stay. He also taught me how to lie to train ticket-collectors! I'll miss the guy.

After 6 days I was on a train to Toulouse... I watched Reims pass by my window and dissapear behind me, and I thought, "If this is only the beginning then I am one lucky girl."

Corresponding Picasa album for complete photos: Reims

The Lake District

NOTE: As I am updating this at the Norwich library I only have so much time to compose this entry - hence I haven't added many photos... but all the photos ARE uploaded onto picasaweb @ picasaweb 'Lake District' album 

 

My time in the Lake District in a nutshell...ish.

I went over to the UK to work at a pub/inn called the Woolpack. Now, I worked everything out via the internet and was very excited indeed. Upon arriving (finally after a train ride from London which forced me to change 3 times with a 26kg suitcase) I was slightly disenchanted. I suppose I found it strange working with Romanians who didn't talk English and also my bosses seemed high-strung and cranky. But the Romanians (3 guys) were very friendly and talked to me about my doubts, I decided to sleep on it. I lived in a Caravan. It was a pretty big caravan! I had the nicest room apparently (later on I was told by the Romanians that the room was strictly off limits for them and our employees only open it up for those staff who need special treatment; meaning they must be desperate for english speaking staff I am guessing...). It had a double bed and a warddrobe! The kitchen was ok, if not tiny, and for 6 people it wasn't quite enough. Also, because everyone worked such long hours each day there wasn't much time left for housekeeping and the kitchen was always a bit of a mess. All the pots and pans were hand-me-downs and usually broken. One of the pots had a handle that wasn't even attached properly - so there were burn accidents etc. 

My work consisted of serving Breakfast and Dinner. During lunch time I would clean the rooms with another new member of staff: Oya, the Turkish girl. Sometimes we got randomly called down to the kitchen to serve food as well - which gives you a picture of how much staff had to do; we were constantly going between cleaning toilets to serving dishes... yum.

After a particular night where one of my bosses unnecessarily snapped at me in front of customers for making a small mistake I began to feel I could not work for the 4 months I intended to stay; it was simply too negative an atmosphere. My employees seemed to be always moaning and groaning about their failed dreams of running an Inn business with EASE. Complaining that it's so hard to have a family life when they're running an Inn and having their staff constantly turnover. This Staff Turnover was probably due to the fact that the employers exploited their employees (hence employing foreigners on Visa programs, as they had little choice but to put up with exploitation) as well as treated them more like slaves than much appreciated members of staff. 

For example, I was told it would be easy to buy my own food from a town nearby as meals were not provided. I soon learnt after arriving at the Inn that it would take almost half a day to get to the nearest town and that it'd cost me about $25AUD in the process. Mmmm. Also, before coming my employee's emails led me to believe that her staff's health was in her best interest. When I got there the only food she ever did provide was frozen burger patties, lasagne or pizza. We usually had to knick fresh fruit and veg and be afraid of being caught whilst doing so. I felt like a prisoner!

Anyway, I left the place after 2 weeks of working. Don't get me wrong, I loved the work (despite unreasonable working hours of anything up to 13 hours a day - sometimes 8 hours without a break) I learnt how to serve in a Restaurant (which was very nice indeed, and the food looked interesting and delicious) and enjoyed communicating with customers thoroughly. I also got something out of housekeeping and cleaning. I, for once, was on the giving end of hotel customer care. I finally saw things from the other side... what really goes into the clean hotel rooms I usually take for granted during my own holidays. It sort of humbled me I suppose. The long hours and hard work also numbed me, I didn't analyse or worry as much anymore.

When I left I felt a little sorry for my Employees, they seemed very unhappy that I was leaving so early and even complained that all 'the best staff always leave' - this did make me want to tell them to have a thorough look at themselves and their staff treatment for the cause of this. But I didn't argue or anything. 

Because they can only afford to pay min wage they do get some weirdos at times and a lot of foreigners who don't speak much English. In fact as I arrived to work at the Inn one Romanian girl left, she apparently was an awful member of staff who made constant mistakes and laughed in the bosses faces when they told her off. She was an interesting character who apparently stayed in her room all the time reading the dictionary (for her third time) and eating only muesli with raw onion and sunflower oil. And then there was another story of one of their English staff being a Meth addict. They wanted to keep him so much (being English speaking) that they even drove him to the doctors for his weekly dose of meth. He apparently just up and left one day without so much as a warning.

In this light, I suppose my employees needed some sympathy. But I wasn't about to stay just because I felt sorry.

When I left I spent a week at Grange-Over-Sands at Pat's house. Pat is Grandma's best friend - and has been for 50 years. Grandma was there, too, and I had many a empathetic hug. For the week I was spoilt to bits (but I did all the washing up in return!) and Pat's brother Gerry took me on lovely walks around Grange. It was a nice time filled with creamy sweets, fresh tomatoe soups, wet, damp, sticky toffee pudding, teddy bears, 3 hour talks of the 'good old days' or WWII (I love hearing old people stories, hehe), garlic pungent woods, old mansions and fresh air.

Now I am in East Anglia with my Grandma and am looking for a job. So far not too much luck, but we'll see. I'm hoping to work for a month then go to Spain with my Grandma for 2 weeks, after I might just hop on a train and do a tour of Europe - maybe working in temp jobs along the way. Oh, the options. I read in my book (Great Expectations) last night the line "and the world lay spread before me" - I feel the same, although it only brings me worries and excitement!

Please do have a look at my Lake District album at Picasaweb! There's plenty of photos!

Crazy Bangers

I arrived in Bangkok at about 11pm. Caught a taxi to my hotel, with my three conspicuously heavy bags (two backpacks and one 25kg suitcase). My taxi driver got lost, and in the middle of our drive he pulls over, answers his mobile phone and gets out of the car! Now, I was too tired to realise what he was doing, but I supposed that in Thailand Taxi drivers are allowed to have a break whenever they please... talk on the phone to their mates, and as I witnessed him cross the road over to the food stalls I was sure he was stopping for a midnight snack! But my assumptions were hyperbolic, for he was merely asking for directions to my destination.But this is not the point! The point is that I am in Bangkok, staying at the most precious, cute, hidden gem of a hotel (and it's not even burning holes in my pockets!)

The second point is that I have retired to my quiet, snail-paced, made-with-100%-love room after only 4 hours on the wild streets of Bangkok. Fighting with tuk-tuk drivers, taking photos of Buddhas, smelling all the bitter-sweet, beautifully-pungent smells of street-food-stalls and live fish and animals in buckets and cages. Bangkok reminds me of the down-town squalors in Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, but that's not to say these people are unfortunate - in fact the culture here is incredibly loud, vibrant and crazy. Even crossing the road is like leaping from a cliff. Bangkok like a jungle or an animal. One that never sleeps and never rests. One overcrowded with fleas and over-spoilt with food, always on the run and always good company!

I started my morning with my breakfast at the hotel. They serve you organic, vegetarian breakfasts at part of your room deal. The menu changes every morning and this morning I had spicy clear soup with decoratively crinkled slices of soft carrot and radish. I had a fresh springroll, incredibly fresh and unbelievably red orange juice and 3 slices of, once again, decoratively crinkled pieces of apple. Then I had a dome of fried rice, which was very nice indeed. I was incredibly satisfied, needless to say and was very much ready to step out onto 'Banger's' mad streets. First, I headed down alongside the river... - staring at an entire city of stalls filled with salad or soup in plastic bags, fresh fruit, not so fresh fruit, fish tails, bags of bread crusts (what the...?), fish balls / beef balls, boxes upon boxes of biscuits and sweet sponge cakes... the list could go on and on, and I couldn't even identify half of the produce. Then, I kept on heading down and came to Thewet Flower Markets. Where there were women weaving little decorative things out of flowers or stalls filled with tropical plants in hanging pots. Of course there were also many decorative statuettes amongst the plants, many wooden birds that could pirch on the sides of flowerpots and many religious statuettes too. I think they're much more exciting than garden gnomes.

I kept on walking until I was at the end of the road and at the pier. Here there were many stalls with big bags of bread crumbs and crusts; which I really don't get. There were also many shops selling buckets of eels, frogs and fish. There were so many in one bucket that the fish often jumped out onto the path in front of me. I just pointed and made "Um! Fish!" sounds like the pathetic non-local that I am. By the way, everyone thinks I'm Thai here, good because I don't get people trying to sell me things unnecessarily, bad though because people keep coming up to me and speaking in Thai which makes me a little embarassed when I ask in my very touristy voice, "Pardon me?"

A tuk-tuk driver caught on that I was indeed a big fat tourist and started trying to convince me to go on a trip round all the temples for 20baht (which, in AUD, is about 50c) but I kept walking. He drove past me 5 minutes later shouting "10 BAHT 10 BAHT!" I caved in and hopped on. He took me to 'Standing Buddha', 'Lucky Buddha' and the Palace by the water, (he also took me to some weird places in between which I have been warned of - I told him not to but his tuk-tuk stubbornness prevailed! I ended up awkwardly perusing one crappy tourist shop and also walking aimlessly in and out of an information center, god knows why they take people there...). I lost him at the palace, so he never got his 10Baht after all. :(

At Standing Buddha I payed 90Baht (slight rip-off) to release some birds out of a tiny cage. The sign say that in Buddha believes that if you free birds from a cage "you will have good luck forever in your lief" (and, yes, no typos here, the man spelt it thus). I did enjoy releasing the little birdies, I watched them fly away and into a nearby tree. I hope they don't get caught again to make an extra 90 form another poor sucker.

Anyway, check out the rest of the photos at my Bangkok Picasaweb Album. There's also many photos of my beautiful hotel room!

Edit: I'm posting this (finally) at Pattaya. I stayed the night at my dad's who lives at a boarding school here (he's an art teacher). But a short post on that will be made another time. P.S. Here's some homework for you, find out about Thai 'spirit houses' - they're cute! :)

Hannah in the Outback

Here's my first 'travel' blog entry. I recently went to the Northern Territory on a 10 day camping tour (with Connections tours, I highly recommend them!) around the Red Center and Top End. I visited Uluru, Mt Olga, Kings Canyon, Alice Springs then took a plane over to Darwin and visited Kakadu National Park and Katherine, including gorges and many waterfalls (notably, MotorCar Falls, Moling Falls, Edith Falls... and many more).

The wildlife was not scarce, especially in the top end. I recall sleeping in my tent one night in Kakadu and hearing a whole orchestra of Dingoes howling. Later that night I was awoken by heavy panting outside my tent, I looked out and there were a couple of dingoes sniffing around for camp scraps. It was great.

I also showered in cubicles covered with green tree frogs, stood amongst a field abundantly occupied by wallabies, nearly ran over a snake in a van, spotted frilly neck lizards tree-hugging in the bush, drank beer with blue tongues and shingle backs crawling over my dinner plate and spotted glowing red crocodile eyes reflected by my torch shining into creeks and billabongs at nighttime.

It was a great experience, it was so awesome visiting the Red Center then the Top End, everything was so contrasted and the experiences so diverse.

My eyes were blinded by the blood reds and stinging oranges of the Red Center deserts, feeling cold winds blow against my cheeks as I slept snuggled in my sleeping bag outside under the stars in the Uluru National Park and quad biking through red sands and dried-out bush lands, getting covered from head to toe by bright orange dirt. Learning all the laws and stories of the indigenous owners of the land fascinated me. Their ways were so incredibly beautiful, logical and meaningful. Their artworks reflected their incredible ancestral creationism tales and their knowledge of all plants and animals far surpasses what you'd probably find in an encyclopaedia - they can retrieve food, medicine and building materials from one plant alone. Then of course I have the pulled muscles to prove the great Hike up 'Heart attack hill' but I soon forgot the pain once I ascended the rocky steps as I was surrounded by incredible views of Kings Canyon's strange alien domes; created by mother nature's relentless erosion. Then, eating gigantic plates of hot chips and roo fillets in an Alice Springs pub mostly occupied by loud locals and doing my laundry in a caravan park.

A short flight and I was suddenly in hot, humid top end. More tropical than the deserts. Mosquitoes preventing me from sleeping outside, enjoying dessert damper with peach, milo and melted chocolate whilst surrounded by ugly fat cane frogs that when picked up would piss a waterfall that would make us all laugh, swimming in dozens of waterholes and waterfalls, being beaten down by the hot sun until I was the colour of the soil itself: reddish brown. As we would snap off the dead branches of ghostly trees we'd become covered in grass seeds which latched onto us as we walked through metre tall spinifex. Creepy crawlies everywhere we went, I remember going to a public toilet, reaching for the toilet paper and having a huntsman the size of my hand fall out of the roll and climb up my arm. The lady in the cubicle next to me exclaimed I had an incredible scream. I know so!

I also licked Green Ant butts (which were acidic and tasted like lime) as well as snorted their crushed ant nests (good for the sinus, smelt so very strong) and eat bush plums which were the size of a thumb but contained the same amount of Vitamin C as 50 oranges!

I met many british travellers, all around my age and doing a gap year like myself. Also one Nebraskan Uni student completing his senior year in Sydney, one Japanese girl who is now thinking of living in Aus, one South American girl studying English in Aus and consequently falling in love with a British backpacker who worked with her at a cafe (alas, she has to return to Columbia soon!) and one fellow Sydney-goer who, no matter what he said, we found hilarious after a very... interesting... karaoke incident in Alice Springs.

All in all, I had a fantastic time. It did far surpass my expectations. And it was indeed in Australia, in my own home country, to think I had to actually be pushed into booking this holiday - for I surely thought I knew Aus inside out. But I sure didn't. The landscapes I can find in my own backyard remind me of another planet. How's that for traveling?

Check out my NT album @ picasaweb for further pictures of landscapes, wildlife and my tour buddies.

p.s. Only 2 and a half weeks til I head off to the UK for my working Holiday in the Lake District - also looking forward to a 3 day stopover in Thailand to visit my dad and family!