Kiwi Goes Global

Rome... if you want to (2)

libby-k8 — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 04:46:00 GMT

So, it's about half a year later, but I rediscovered the notes that I had made with the intention of turning it into a blog entry, and it appears I hadn't said everything I had to say about Rome. So.

In my TwinCities hostel (recommend it, by the way), I met some cool people. For someone travelling alone, that's pretty good luck. Ran into one Canadian as I was leaving, and found out we were both planning to see the Vatican kinda area that day, so we joined forces. On the metro, we somehow found another Canadian, also heading to the Vatican, who had a local friend to give us all the insider info. Including ignore all those people trying to sell you tours/fast entry and just keep walking. I have to admit, the queue looked enormous when we arrived (and it was sweltering) but it moved pretty fast.

We were being stingy, so we only checked out St Peter's Basilica. But it was pretty impressive. Except for the fact that it has just become like some big statue, with plenty of noisy people taking photos every which way. But I guess we were tourists too, so can't really complain.

Next in line was a wander over the Bridge of Angels (which appears to be more correctly called Ponte Sant'Angelo).

It was one of those days where you were grateful that Rome has so many water fountains. If not, I think we may even have perished. I definitely lost count of the number of times I refilled my water bottle. But they're also useful for getting some water to splash over your face/neck. When it's 40 degrees, it's kinda necessary...

We did a lot of walking, and were really hoping to find a cheap lunch. It was looking impossible. Then, suddenly, we came across a supermarket. In we went and, in great Italian style, you could get a panino made for you. So, I got one full of delicious ingredients (like roasted peppers and aubergines and mozzarella) for just a few euros. I can assure you that I enjoyed it just as much as any other meal I had in Italy!

Canadian #1 and I got brave and decided to last it out in the heat to see the Roman Forum and Paletine Hill. This was also a brilliant way of getting into the Collosseum fast - the tickets were valid for both, and lasted until the next day. Given that there was no queue to get in here and, if you have a ticket, you can waltz right to the front at the Colosseum, it was a no-brainer.

Take it from the Rome Toolkit: "Expect queues at all times for entrance to the Colosseum. Remember you can purchase tickets at the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill for which the 2 day admission ticket is also valid. "

A bit of a shame, as there was no signage inside to tell us what things were. So, we were looking at a whole heap of ruins without much idea of what they were. I could have done with some of this information.

I mean:
Forum = marketplace, business centre, civic centre/basically the hub of Rome.
That's quite important.
Palatine Hill = Place where first settlers built their houses, to posh district, to palaces. Site of the murder of Caligula.
Also interesting to know, and gives things a bit more meaning.

Got back to the hostel and made a joint cooking effort with the Canadian. Met some Belgians, decided to go out to a bar. Good times!

Photos: Rome

libby-k8 — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 01:22:00 GMT

Pleased to meet you, Roma

libby-k8 — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 02:04:00 GMT

Well, it was time to bid Scafati and my lovely host family goodbye, hop on the train at Pompei, change in Napoli, and then carry on to Rome.

After all the stories I'd heard about Naples and its dodgy rep, I thought that I was going to have to be really on guard being in the train station with a big suitcase. However (perhaps because I was on guard), I didn't have any problems whatsoever.

My first impression, on getting out of the train at the station on Rome, was oppressive heat, and the stench of cigarettes. Apparently, it's everyone's first thought when they get out of the train, and they throw the butts down beside the tracks. Mmm, delicious...

Ventured onto the metro, also very on guard, because people had told me plenty of stories about pick-pockets in Rome too. Thankfully, no problems. In fact, I even had a gallant man help me (without being asked) take my large suitcase up the steps at the end.

The hostel that I had panic-booked because I hadn't organised in advance, and chose because it was the cheapest thing left available, turned out to be a fantastic choice: I fully recommend TwinCities, Rome. I admit that my single room was fairly small, but I definitely appreciated its fan in the heat! Plus, the owner of this place is awesome and treats you like a friend right from the word go, and the lady gave me plenty of advice on places to see in the city centre. In a demo of just how small the world is, some French girls arrived, and they were Toulousain and Bordelaise, and one had a cousin at school in Saint-Gaudens, the wee town where I'd worked as a language assistant!

After grabbing a kebab and facing the usual series of 'Are you travelling alone? Where are you staying?' questions, I set off to check out some of these famous sites. Went past the Spanish steps, the mass of people around the Trevi fountain, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona with its many paintings on display, aaand... yeah, I'll have to check up because I honestly can't remember it all!

Side note: this was one of my fav places to hang out in Rome. Great atmosphere and never quite the same twice!

A friend, Gerri, who had been at the camp in Scafati with me, was in Rome, so we met up for dinner. We had some typically Italian tapas. Ok, so it wasn't very Italian. But it was tasty. Afterwards, we headed for the Campo dei Fiore, and found a cheap bar. However, I only had time for about one drink before I decided I really should try to get a bus back to the hostel (metro was shut).

I really like the metro. Because it's hard to get lost. This bus thing, it was a lot harder. Ie, I had on my map from the hostel which bus to take and which stop to get off at, but the stops weren't displayed anywhere on the bus (or the shelters, as far as I could see). Had to test out my English - and, at times, pretend to speak Italian - and ask around, first to know whether I should get off the bus, and then to actually get back to the hostel afterwards.

Anyway, mission accomplished. Turns out that I pronounce 'dove sta' better than I spell it, and I can understand directions in Italian when I really have to.

What It Means To Be Kiwi (ie, from New Zealand)

libby-k8 — Sat, 3 Sep 2011 18:52:00 GMT

For those who were scratching their heads and wondering why I was blogging about what it meant to be a fruit on World Nomads, you just failed the first ‘Kiwi/not Kiwi’ test.

It’s pretty hard to sum up a national identity in a single blog entry, but here goes.

When you hear ‘kiwi,’ a fruit is not the first thing which comes to mind.

You think either of: a small, flightless bird, which is native to New Zealand, and something of a symbol of the country; or the nationality of those people from that little bunch of islands known as New Zealand, or Aotearoa in the Māori vernacular.

The other stuff is called kiwifruit in New Zealand, which makes it kind of funny for us (or me, at least) when foreigners come along and talk about kiwis (fruit) and kiwibirds.

You love eNZed.

You have a strong affection for New Zealand, and think that it is the best country in the world. Kiwis aren’t renowned for being in-your-face or too noisy, but you can probably get us talking for hours about our homeland! Plus, there are plenty of Kiwis out there with NZ tattoos and t-shirts, and you’ll find plenty of discussion about NZ on social networking sites (despite the fact that there aren’t really that many of us).

You talk with a but of an accint.

New Zealanders have their own accent and, contrary to popular belief, it is actually different to the Australian one. Most Kiwis have probably been teased about their accent by foreigners, at some point. Especially when they said words containing an ‘e.’ For example, when I came to France to work as an Assistant English Teacher, I told the classes that my brother was called Ben. They looked really confused, until I wrote it on the board. They’d heard ‘Bin.’ An English teacher couldn’t work out what I was saying to the students when I said ‘in the tixt (text).’ If you’re to believe the Australians, we say ‘fush and chups.’
But we also have some words of our own or, at least, that many other Anglophones don’t understand. So, if you’re a Kiwi, you know that jandals are sweet as, you're not bemused if you're asked to bring a plate, understand if you hear that Rangi pashed Kate, and think to take your togs and a chilly bin if you’re heading to the bach.

You can find more Kiwi expressions here.

You have some knowledge of Māori culture.

You may be Māori, speak te reo (the language) fluently, be au fait with all of the tikanga (customs and traditions) on the marae (meeting place), and be active within your iwi (tribe). However, maybe you have just taken part in a few pōwhiri (welcome ceremonies) at school and know how to sing Tūtira Mai Ngā Iwi, or the national anthem in Māori. Hopefully, you understand a few of the Māori words which commonly crop up, even if you can’t pronounce them properly. That way you can say kia ora (hello) to your mates, have a kai (feed/food) with your whānau (family), and everything will be ka pai (good). As long as you don’t wear your shoes inside the buildings on a marae, or sit on any tables.

You have that typical Kiwi character.

DISCLAIMER: All of this is a generalisation.
If you’re a good Kiwi bloke, you’re a tough bastard. Like Buck Shelford. I’ll leave NZ comedian, Mike King, to explain that one. You are not metrosexual. Also, you can turn your hand to fixing anything. If you’re a Kiwi chick, you’re quite possibly a bit masculine, in your mode of expression, if nothing else. You don’t expect men to do everything for you. No matter what gender you are, you’re probably fairly laid back; you don’t whinge (complain), you just get on with it; you’re not as assertive or vocal as people from other nations; and you’ll give anything a go once. Plus, apparently, you have a reputation overseas for being hard-working. Sweet.

You like rugby.

In fact, it's a little bit like a religion. NZ is the country of the All Blacks, after all. You grew up with Dad watching the match (or several) on the weekend. You probably played rugby throughout school, and after. Well, that’s more likely if you’re a boy, but there are more and more rugby-playing girls out there too. It makes perfect sense for the bars to be packed on game night. And, of course the whole country will be in mourning the following day if the ABs lose. They’ll be whinging, too. I know, I said that Kiwis didn’t complain much, but complaining about the performance of sports teams is perfectly acceptable.
Just a sidenote: we do other sports, too. We’re pretty decent at netball, rowing, and sailing, and we’ll have a go at any sport!

You love Kiwi tucker.

Everyone knows that you’ll always be a Kiwi if you love our Watties (tomato) sauce, and that Marmite (yeast spread) is what makes Kiwis Kiwis. You go round to your friends’ place for a BBQ, or maybe a boil-up, and a real meal has gotta have meat. Come summer, hokey pokey ice-cream is a favourite, and the famous pavlova (fruit-topped meringue) is sure to make an appearance.

At some point in your life, you’ve munched on a hangi (food cooked by steam from hot rocks, a traditional Maori method). If you need to bake ANZAC biscuits (with golden syrup and oats), you turn to the infallible Edmonds Cookbook. Plus, you have eaten either: Bluff Oysters, paua (abalone), or whitebait fritters. Also, if you go to get a meat pie late at night, you always blow on the pie.

You’re familiar with the Kiwi lifestyle and attitudes.

You can competently discuss the current storylines on Shortland St and Outrageous Fortune, two of NZ’s favourite soaps. You think Jim Hickey is the best tv weather man ever. If the Prime Minister of your country opens a new building at a school, you don’t think it’s at all strange.

On meeting any New Zealander, you can find a mutual friend within twenty minutes of conversation. It’s only two degrees of separation in our country! When you set up your internet, you accept comparatively slow internet and a data limit. You’re only mildly annoyed at having to slow to 50km when you go through small towns on state highways. Lastly, you don’t really need shoes, and you think stubbies are fashionable.

You make fun of Australia.

New Zealand and Australia have a kind of sibling rivalry. If you’re a Kiwi, you have been on the receiving end of enough ‘sheep-shagger’ jokes made by Australians to start fighting back, normally with jokes about the Aussies’ intelligence, or a simple ‘bloody Aussies.’ You will never, ever, forgive them for the unsporting 1981 underarm bowling incident which prevented NZ from winning. While you support the All Blacks and any other NZ team first, your second choice is anyone playing against Australia.

However, should you find an Aussie when you’re travelling overseas, after a ritual exchange where each one pokes fun at the other, you’ll probably become friends. After all, they are the next best thing to a fellow Kiwi!

5 Must-Do Things in Napier, New Zealand

libby-k8 — Fri, 2 Sep 2011 19:14:00 GMT

Napier, fondly referred to as Napesville by many of its younger inhabitants, is an almost 60,000-person town, is on the East Coast of the North Island. While it's not a big city, it has plenty of wineries, cafés, fruit, and Art Déco buildings. The following is my view of the five most important things to do while you're in my backyard, Napier, and its environs.

Hire a car.
In New Zealand, especially in small towns, we're not so good at public transport. However, if you've got a car to cruise around in, you'll be able to see a lot more. Plus, several of the things which I am now going to recommend will require, or be a lot easier with, a car.
If arriving by plane, there are several car hire agencies at the airport. Othewise, the staff at the Napier i-Site on the Marine Parade will point you in the right direction.

Get up on a hill somewhere and check out the nice views.
Take some fish and chips from 'The Frying Dutchman' with you for a real Kiwi experience. I'd recommend either:
- heading up to the lookout on Bluff Hill,
- going up Sugarloaf in the suburb of Taradale (work it in with your visit to Church Road Winery and the Mission Estate),
- or going to Te Mata Peak in Havelock North. I admit that Havelock North is not Napier, but Te Mata Peak is really worth a look, and it's only about 20 minutes' drive away. Plus, you can go to Craggy Range winery while you’re there.
If you feel like being sporty, you could make an afternoon out of it, as there are walking tracks around all three of these sights.

Prove you were there: take photos with all the tourist attractions.
You shouldn't leave Napier without photos of yourself in the following places:
- In front of the Rothman's Building; every tourist in the city does it.
- Next to the statue of Pania; you're lucky to be able to see this icon, as she was stolen in 2005, but later found and reinstated.
- In the Soundshell; built in 1931, centre of many a celebration in Napier.
- The Art Déco McDonald's in Taradale; it's the only one in the world.
Bonus points if you can score a photo with 'Bertie,' the town's art déco ambassador, or a photo by the Tom Parker fountain lit up at night.

Go to a winery.
Napier, and the surrounding area, is full of wineries, so it would be a travesty to leave without sampling at least some. There are plenty of options at the wineries: browsing the cellars, tasting, having a meal accompanied by some of that local wine… You may even strike some live music. If you can find someone who is willing to stay sober, this is a time when your hired car will come in very handy. Otherwise, you can take part in an organised tour.
A few winery ideas:
Crab Farm, part of which is on land which emerged from the ‘estuary tidal waters’ after the 1931 earthquake,
Church Road Winery, popular for weddings, just in case you want to tie the knot while you’re here,
Mission Estate, NZ’s oldest winery, hosts a very popular annual concert,
Craggy Range, it took 10 years of searching for the owners to find the perfect place, and Vidal Estate, home of the oldest winery restaurant in NZ.
If you’re more of a beer-lover, you can go on a tour which includes our local brewery, and spend some time sampling and snacking at the Filter Room.
There are more wineries than this in the region, but it’s important to drink responsibly, so you’ll have to leave them for another visit. Or, at least, another day.

Appreciate the Art Déco Ambiance.
In 1931, the region of Hawke’s Bay, and especially Napier, was hit by a devastating earthquake measuring 7.8 in magnitude. As if that wasn’t enough, fires followed, burned for 36 hours due to the lack of water to extinguish them, and destroyed the buildings that the earthquake didn’t get.
However, it’s an ill wind which blows nobody any good. The decision was taken to rebuild the city in the Art Déco style which was in fashion at the time, as well as being cheap, and safer in the case of future earthquakes. These buildings have now become an important part of Napier’s identity, and visitors can take tours of the city centre with a guide who will explain their history and architecture. There’s also a self-guided option.
However, the best time to appreciate all things Art Déco in Napier is undoubtedly mid-February, during Art Déco Weekend. You will truly feel you have stepped back into the ‘30s, as the town fills with period dress, vintage cars, air displays, trolley derbys, swing bands, and more!

As Bertie, the Art Déco ambassador, would say, “Well, chaps, pip pip!”

Photos: Blog Your Backyard

libby-k8 — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 00:44:00 GMT

For my Blog Your Backyard posts.

Do's and Don'ts in New Zealand

libby-k8 — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 23:21:00 GMT

In the spirit of Blog Your Backyard, I'm going to share the dos and don'ts that came to mind when I thought about my beloved homeland: New Zealand/Aotearoa/Godzone. ;p

I have to start with this one, because it's important. DON'T... expect to waltz through customs with natural products in your bags. As the New Zealand Customs Service's website says 'We take our biosecurity very seriously.' Many an unwary traveller has found out the hard way. For instance, one of my friends was on his way back from Australia, and forgot that there was an orange from 3 days earlier in the bottom of his backpack. He parted with about NZ$200 because of this, so make sure that you check your luggage thoroughly. Some think we're crazy, but the thing is that we're a small country in the middle of the Pacific, and we'd rather protect our plants and wildlife from any pests or diseases that you could bring in with those prohibited items, thank you very much. Here's a site with some information on what is and is not allowed in.

DO... get a taste of te ao Māori (the Māori world). After all, it's one of the things which makes New Zealand unique. Most people have watched the All Blacks do the haka before a rugby match, but there is a lot more to Maori culture than this! For a start, you can learn 'kia ora' (hello) and 'ka pai' (good): two Māori phrases that you may hear used in New Zealand English. History buffs can visit an ancient pa (fortified village) site to learn about the traditional Maori way of life, and maybe the inter-tribal battles, or the land wars between the colonisers and Māori. You could also witness some of the enduring traditions and enjoy some famous Māori hospitality by taking part in a pōwhiri, a welcome ceremony for visitors on a marae (communal meeting place). The Māori culture also comprises a strong tradition of performing arts (kapa haka), so you could enjoy a concert of action songs and poi dances. If you'd like to get out into nature, and learn more about the Māori world view, there are plenty of options: tours with local guides, who share historic, mythical and other cultural information.

On the other hand, DON'T... expect to find Māori living in grass skirts in the forests. Yes, the Māori were hunters and gatherers who lived off the land. That's why they traditionally introduce themselves by stating things such as their mountain and river, and why disputes over land loss in the early settler days still have repercussions today. However, the Māori people have moved with the times and live much like anyone else. While I'll admit that there is still sometimes friction between Māori and Pākehā (non-Māori), there are also Māori politicians, university lecturers, doctors, lawyers, and more.

Another important thing to remember is that the Māori culture has its own etiquette: DON'T... sit on tables, don't put your hat on a table, and don't eat or drink if you are inside a wharenui (meeting house). The first two are offensive partly because they are unhygenic (you eat off tables), and also because of the Māori notion of tapu (sacred), and the third because the wharenui is an extremely important area in the marae. So, eating there would be somewhat akin to munching away in a church. Besides, near every wharenui, there's a wharekai (kitchen/dining room).

DO... make the most of our diverse country. New Zealand's about 1600 kilometres long, so I guess it's only fair to expect some differences between the countryside up north and down south. For instance, if we work our way down:
The Bay of Islands is the place for people who want a beachy holiday. Lounging on the sand, going on a boat cruise, or visiting the place where the Treaty of Waitangi (between Māori and the British Crown was signed are just a few options.
Should boiling mud, geysers, and thermal hot pools tickle your fancy, Rotorua is the place for you.
If you'd like to spend your holiday sampling wine and whiling away the hours in cafés, head to the Hawke's Bay or Nelson regions.
A 'cooler' option is to head down the rugged West Coast and visit the Southern Alps, with Queenstown and Wanaka being popular destinations for skiers. While in that area, you can check out the Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers.

When you're travelling between all those great places, DON'T... expect our highways to be super fast. For a start, our speed limit is 100 km/h. Secondly, our highways are not like those in many other parts of the world. You will be required to slow down to 70 km/h (or even 50 km/h) when passing through small towns. If you're lucky, you may even cross a one-way bridge. And, as for crossing the Rimutakas on State Highway 2? You may be close to Wellington, but you still have to pass through some windy, hilly roads with few passing lanes. Be careful. Sorry, that's just the way our roads are. On the flipside, there are no tolls!

DO... consider coming in summer and checking out a festival. You have lots of choices. There is:
The Big Day Out. Days of music on multiple stages, and a popular event with New Zealand youngsters. You'll only regret not being able to watch everything at once!
Rhythm And Vines, a great lead-up to New Year's Eve, with plenty of music and the opportunity to camp on-site.
Art Déco Weekend. Travel back to the '30s and enjoy music, trolley derbies, bathing beauties, vintage cars, and more.
The Cuba Street Carvnival. wotzon.com describes the Cuba St Carnival, due to recommence in 2013, as 'an unforgettable street party that captures the imagination of anybody with a pulse... a vibrant global mix of music, art and dance.'
The World Buskers' Festival, which promises 'laughter and hilarity.'
Not actually in summer, but definitely worth a visit is The Bluff Oyster and Seafood Festival, to sample local delicacies in an atmosphere that is 'unsophisticated, and proud of it!'

DON'T... stop at Bluff Oysters. There's still Hokey Pokey ice-cream, Pavlova (a meringue-style dessert), ANZAC biscuits (with oats and golden syrup), whitebait fritters, Paua (an edible abalone), hangi (food steamed in an Earth oven) and, for the brave, the yeasty goodness of Marmite on toast. Just don't believe anyone who tells you that it tastes like Nutella. You are advised to spread it thinly.

DO... ask locals for help or advice. We're proud of our country, and we want you to love it as much as we do, so we're happy if we can help you to enjoy your stay. Apparently, we have a reputation for being a friendly bunch, too. Just expect to be asked 'so, how do you like New Zealand?' Oh, and be prepared for us to respond to your questions with our New Zealand accent. We may be a former British colony, but we've developed our own special twang. It can't be too bad, though, as, according to a BBC survey quoted in the New Zealand Herald, it was 'rated the most attractive and prestigious form of English outside the UK.' Unfortunately, that hasn't stopped the Aussies from mocking us about how we say 'fush and chups.'

Last, but not least, DON'T... say anything bad about the All Blacks. That is, if you value your life, or want to make any Kiwi friends while you are in the country. Since rugby is something of a religion here, critcising the All Blacks - or alluding to the fact that some other team could possibly be better than them - is bordering on blasphemy. Especially with the 2011 World Cup approaching, on our turf.

See you there!

You, Me, & Capri

libby-k8 — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 05:42:00 GMT

*All times are approximate. We are, after all, in Italy. And I can’t remember.

8.20am: Train from Pompei Scavi, Villa dei Misteri

8.40am: Get off train in Sorrento. Notice large, English-speaking group in front of you. Follow them to the port, as you have no idea where to go.

8.50am: Try to work out which people to buy your tickets from. Have one lady that tries to sell you a cruise to the Amalfi Coast, even though you asked for Capri.

9am: Buy your tickets from someone else, wander to the dock.

9.10am: Get told off by the boat crew as Libby was determined to find this ‘panoramic deck,’ and opened some random door to find it. Well, they should put a sign on the door.

9.15am: Boat leaves. Spend about 5 mins looking for a good seat, and decide that you’re better off just standing out the back.

9.20am – 9.45am: Watch the water and the nice islands go by.

9.46am: Go down into the garage part of the boat, ready for exit, and get your first view of Capri as the gangplank is lowered.

9.47am: Pile out of the boat.

9.49am: Check out a boat tour of the island, find an ATM, and get tickets.

9.50am – 10.50am: Get on the boat, and cruise the beautiful, turquoise waters of Capri. Pass Sophia Loren’s house, the Ferrari boss’ house, through the Tunnel of Love, past the Marina piccola, check out a couple of grottos. Feel a bit ripped off when it is announced that you can’t go through the Blue Grotto (a supposed highlight) due to the tide.

10.50am: Get off the boat, pleased with what you saw, but slightly peeved that this 1h30 tour somehow only took an hour...

10.53am: Check out the shops, looking for cheap food. End up buying a bottle of limoncello.

10.54am: Find a place which makes nice panini. Hang out by the counter, wondering why the guys on the counter keep bypassing you.

10.58am: Notice that everyone else has numbers. Where did they come from?

11.10am: Find the number dispenser (and get cups for limoncello).

11.30am: Finally get your panino. It does look tasty. And huge.

11.31am: Head to nearest free beach. Eat panino. Wonder why everyone is pretty much on all fours when getting out of the water.

11.45am: Limoncello number 1, followed by a swim. Understand why everyone looked so uncoordinated in the water: there are rocks, and they're really hard to walk on.

12 noon: Limoncello number 2. Laze. Swim.

12.30pm: Repeat above process.

1.10pm: Repeat above process...

2.20pm: Finish limoncello and decide to actually see some other part of Capri than this particular beach.

2.30pm: Buy a bottle of wine.

2.32pm: See a sign for the city centre, and follow it.

2.42pm: Regret the decision to follow sign, as this is a real uphill hike. On the other hand, the wine is looking like a great idea for boosting morale.

3pm: Obligatory halt, as one party member's shoe has broken. Yes, it was a hard, hard climb.

3.10pm: Meet, and begin conversation with, random French-Canadian dude, who tells you all about how he came on holiday with his girlfriend, and then they broke up.

3.30pm: Reach the town square, look around and decide that you don't really want ice-creams, restaurant meals, etc. Get ditched by French-Canadian dude.

3.35pm: Photo time, as you have found where all the beautiful views over the bay were. Wow, that beach you were just on looks really far below now!

3.50pm: Shoeless person has really hot feet, and the need for new shoes is becoming impossible to ignore. Start shopping mission.

3.53pm: Realise that this is the worst place for your shoes to break. In Scafati, you could probably find 5€ shoes. Here, they are 50€. At least. Oh, hooray!

4pm: Find appropriate pair of shoes. They are 80€. Try to barter, in Italian.

4.15pm: Shoes are now 65€. This looks like the final offer. Buy shoes, and go.

4.20pm: Start heading down to the beach again. It's a lot more pleasant in this direction!

4.25pm: Wish you had planned to stay a night here.

4.35pm: Get lost, and try out Italian by asking directions from a lady who is gardening.

4.45pm: Success! You are back at the beach. But... who's that? Could it be the broken-hearted French-Canadian from the hour before?

5pm: One party member begins having a heart-to-heart with French-Canadian, and trying to talk him into patching things up with his gf.

5.15pm: Swimming, again.

5.50pm: Last boat leaves Capri at 6pm. Time to head that way.

6pm: Boat leaves, about 30 seconds after you all get on. Look longingly at the final views of Capri as you move away.

6.25pm: Land in Sorrento, determined to find some pizza.

6.30pm: Steps. Again!

6.45pm: Well, at least there's a nice square for finishing the wine in, even if it does have a rather disapproving-looking statue.

7pm: Find appropriate pizza restaurant that doesn't seem too flashy for people in togs, complete with hard-case waiter.

7.30pm: 3 margheritas later (may I add that this was the pizza, not the drink), head back to the train.

7.45pm: Train is arriving. Or is it? Is this the right platform? Confused conversations with other English speakers in front.

7.46pm: Get on the train, as you've decided it is the one. But... where is party member number 3? She was just behind before.

7.48pm: Look back to the ticket gates. There she i- And the doors shut, and the train rolls away.

8pm: Get of the train at Pompei, and decide to wait for the next train to check that #3 is ok.

8.35pm: #3 does not get off the next train. She doesn't have a cellphone. What to do?!

8.37pm: Decide to go home and deal with it from there. #2's family will pick us up from the station.

8.38pm-8.50pm: Try to ignore whistles, cat-calls, kisses as you walk through the street. You have just come from the beach, and you look like it, so this is quite bemusing.

9pm: Clearly, this is the wrong station, as they are not there. Only person in the family who speaks English is the 13-year-old. Texts and phone calls are confusing. Ask a man for the street name, since there are no signs.

9.10pm: Family arrives. Wants to know where #3 is... too hard to explain.

9.20pm: Arrive home. Your family is having a bday party for the dad, and the house is full of people, and food.

9.30-10pm: Try a few phone calls to #3's family, hoping to hear she has arrived safely. No response.

10.30pm: #3 has just arrived home. Will have to get that story later. For now, time to join in with the singing and general merriment...

How To: Go To An Italian Beach

libby-k8 — Sat, 2 Jul 2011 23:40:00 GMT

So, at least in this area of Italy, going to the beach is a completely different experience to what it is in New Zealand.

Back home, no-one's too far from the beach (although Italy's a long, thin country too), so you just pack up the car (maybe walk, if you're lucky), grab your togs and boardies, a beach umbrella, towels, jandals, maybe pack a picnic, take a magazine, lots of water, boogie boards, sunscreen, perhaps a wee beach tent and a surfboard, or a kayak or something. Sports equipment, if you're going to play beach volleyball or cricket. Maybe a bucket and spade, if you're the sandcastle type.

In other words, if you are going to a really decent beach, you will most likely be prepared for the whole day, because you'll be somewhere reasonably remote, and there's probably just a dairy with the basics, and ice-creams.

And you go. You park the car about 30m away from the beach, you wander down, you pick a patch, and you set up camp for the day. If you ever want to go to the loo, you'll probably have to a)go on a mission to the one block of public toilets that are slightly run-down and probably a wee way away, or b) just find a spot behind some bushes. If you want food, you go to the dairy, or you starve (unless you were smart and packed stuff, or have amazing fishing and fire-constructing abilities).

In Italy, as I recently discovered, it's a rather different experience.

I went on a beach trip with a couple of friends, and we decided not to go to the really nice-looking beach, since it cost 20€. Per person. To get onto the beach. Admittedly, there are sun loungers, bars, etc, but still.

We were going to go to this free beach... but it was kind of full, dirty, and small.

Luckily, Anna was smart and we went for a walk, and found that entry (without a chair or umbrella) to the beach next door (Conte) was only 3€50 per person. Ie all 4 of us could get in for the price of one person at that other beach!

Managed to find a spot (lots of people got in earlier than us, and when they have sunloungers they take up quite a lot of room) beside the lifeguard and the little boats they hire out. This definitely had its advantages, as we could steal some of his shade from his umbrella, and sit on the boats, etc. Well done, Anna!

The lady next to us was wearing jandals. With a small heel. Seriously. High-heeled jandals on a beach. Now I've seen it all.

There was also a bunch of people who seemed to be spraying themselves with oil... I guess they enjoyed baking? Perhaps wanted to know what it felt like to be a potato chip? Because that sun was hot.

Also, most guys will wear speedos, and most women will wear bikinis... even if they're more mature. Pretty much no-one will wear boardshorts or, if my experience is anything to go by, cover up to protect themselves from the sun when they're not in the water.

The good things about paying for beaches are that...

there are toilets. But that doesn't mean they'll have paper or soap!
there are changing sheds.
there's a shop with reasonably-priced food, and tables to eat it at.
there is car-parking (because the streets are pretty narrow in some places around here, and I would kinda be worried about my car getting dinged).

So, if you are a Kiwi in Italy, do not expect going to the beach to be the same!

Italy: The Food

libby-k8 — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 05:23:00 GMT

*DISCLAIMER* That I can remember... I've eaten so much, and don't always recall the name!

Gelato (of course)
Coffee (strong, and complete with mineral water for palate-cleansing)
Sfogliatella (pastry thingee)
Baba (rum-soaked cakey thing)
Margherita pizza
Gnocchi alla Sorrentina
Bruschetta (which has a hard c... I never knew)
Gato' (mashed potato cake)
Limoncello, and it's friends Meloncello and Fragontello
Mozzarella
Shamefully, I think there's probably more, but I can't think of it at the moment.

Random Impressions of Italy

libby-k8 — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 04:31:00 GMT

Heels are very popular here. All the time. Even if it's just casual... wedge heels.
Italians are super-hospitable. This will not be good for my weight. It's always 'Libby, try this...' Below example: we have eaten starters, we have eaten pizza, we've had about 3 glasses of beer. But, before we leave, Enzo wants us to try some limoncello!
'Tutto a posto' (pretty much 'all good', I guess) and 'aspetta' (wait) are 2 phrases I learnt pretty quickly.
The great thing about Italian is that 'ciao' is hi and bye. This means that you don't have to think about which one to use. This also means that people often greet me with 'bye' and farewell me with 'hello.'
It is true; Italians use their hands a lot when they speak. I'm trying to start doing more gestures cos it's fun. And helps people understand.
The traffic here is mental. There's lots of honking. I don't even really know if there are lanes. Scooters... people have a death wish, I think. They weave in and out like crazy. Sometimes they don't even wear helmets, or have 3 on one scooter. The amazing thing is, if you walk out onto the road with confidence, they generally stop for you, even if you're not on a pedestrian crossing. Plus they make hundred-point turns in crazily narrow streets sometimes.
Italians use the word 'beautiful' the way that we would use 'nice.' This probably says something about their mentality. The title of La vita e bella suddenly makes a lot more sense.
There seem to be fashion parades all the time. I've been to 2 in 2 weeks. And men (even young men) go. It'd be a lot harder to convince a male back home to go, and I bet they'd make a big show of perving at the female models.
Within two days of arriving, I was wandering around and heard a honk... I looked around (due to aforementioned crazy traffic, I was afraid my time may be near) and see some dude blowing kisses from a car.
Everyone is obsessed with soccer. And they worship the SSC Napoli.
The country is pretty strongly Catholic. First Communion is really important. New cars get blessed.
People stay out so much later than we do. You'll still see people spilling out of bars at 11.30pm, even if it's only Wednesday. The other day, I saw a dude walking his dog around midnight.
People applaud a lot here. They applauded when the plane landed. It wasn't a difficult landing, so this reaction worried me a bit. They also applauded when our luggage finally appeared on the carousel.
There are fireworks pretty much every night. Apparently, you just let off fireworks for birthdays, weddings...

Scafati: Ciao, bella!

libby-k8 — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 06:28:00 GMT

Briefly, my life in Scafati so far...

First time in my life that I've been greeted at the airport with a sign. How cool did I feel? Lol.
Ate a ginormous pistachio, nutella and strawberry gelato within hours of arriving.
Stayed the first night at the house of the organiser of the language camp.
Next morning, I found myself in the house with the organiser's mother and the maid, neither of whom spoke English. Thank you, thank you, for gestures and the fact that I speak some French and Spanish.
Met Amalia, another volunteer on the programme, and a friend took us out for coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I did make an exception. Here, it comes with sparkling mineral water, to cleanse your palate before taking on the coffee taste sensation...
Also tried sfogliatella, a kind of pastry specialty.
Got a tour of a sign shop, as I discovered that this friend, Enzo, is a signwriter like my dad!
Went out for a Margherita pizza. Pizza was invented in Naples, and we're not far away, so that was pretty choice.
Had some limoncello liqueur after the pizza.
Went off to the English language camp. Noisiest room ever, filled with 20 kids. Go figure. Met Olivia, the other volunteer.
Met my host family here, and had a nice dinner of spaghetti with oil, garlic and peppers. And then the limoncello appeared again! Although this stuff was almost creamier than the earlier one, and not so strong.
Went for a walk to Pompei. That's right; it's within walking distance. Madness. Saw the really famous church (Santuario de la Madonna del Rosario di Pompei).
Had a late lunch and went 'back to school' for a rather chaotic 3 hours.
Went to a pizza party in one of the town squares, and tried a Napolitan pizza.
Spoke Spanish with my host mother's mother. Good times, as I don't speak Italian and she doesn't speak English.
Discovered that, if the kids could do some kind of game that involved running, they were generally a lot more pleasant to be around.
My host family went to get their new car blessed.
Went out to Jamaica Inn (on Vesuvius) to dance some salsa, with the other English-speaking volunteers. Met a self-confessed Italian Stallion (check my fb pix).
Had a brilliant view from above nightclub.
Visited the ruins of Pompei in the afternoon heat. It was better to stay in the shade, but it was definitely fascinating to check out this place. (Photos also on facebook).

Went to a fashion parade. There were pretty cool ballet dancers. There were clothes by Alviero Martini. And, Gilda Sansone, winner of the first cycle of Italy's Next Top Model (and hailing from Pompei) was strutting her stuff.
Visited Naples with my host family (photos on facebook). Checked out the Castel dell'Ovo and one point with amazing views... don't know what it was called, but think it could have been Marechiaro.
Had hours of fun trying to help put together a foldable bed that the family got from IKEA.
Was entertained by a night of YouTube videos: Tranne Te, post-goal celebrations, and Jovanotti (bonus of learning how to say 'kiss me again' in Italian), and Napolitan dialects.

Pfingstfest in Huechel

libby-k8 — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 05:28:00 GMT

'Huechel was a crazy party.' Yes. Yes it was.

But, you ask, what is Pfingstfest? Well, I participated, and I still don't really know. I have Googled, and I still don't really know. One day, I will research this, and write some kind of informative article, but for now I'll just tell you how I experienced it. I may also add that these traditions are particular to this part of Germany. So, Germans who had come from other areas were also experiencing it for the first time (so I didn't feel like such an outsider!!).

Nadja always celebrates Pfingstfest in Huechel, a small town near her small town (see map below). In this town, there's a wooden cabin, which her sister and some friends built when they were about 16.

At Pfingstfest (which has something to do with the Holy Ghost, and seems to be Pentecost in English), each small town has a little tree, which they hoist up on a tall stick at their kind of centre of celebrations. And then they hang around and drink beer. A lot of beer. For, like, 3 days staight. And, if you try Nadja's suggestion of beer mixed with Coke, some people will sneer at you. Then again, they will also good-naturedly mock you if you don't drink fast enough, so you can't really win. Who tries to out-drink Germans when it comes to beer, anyway?

On the subject of beer, the most controversial question you can ask a German guy is apparently what the best beer in Germany is. Luckily, I was only talking to one guy when I asked this as, otherwise, it could have become a very heated conversation, I think.

On one afternoon, they do a tour of the village, singing a song at people's doors, and collecting eggs, money, and alcohol in return. Some people are so used to the tradition that they have a semi-portable bar and bring out shots for everyone. We like these people. Those who have just moved to the area are often slightly afraid when a singing mob comes to their door, and have to have the tradition explained. Next year, they'll be ready with their carton of eggs too!

Sometimes, it rains during this journey, at which stage it is really, really great to be Nadja's friend, as she is organised and takes an umbrella.

The eggs are taken back to the 'centre of celebrations' along with the alcohol which has survived the voyage. Read: not much.

At ours (look at me, taking ownership of it), there was a bonfire burning, with a few couches around. The kegs were in the log cabin. The tractor was parked by the entrance. There was a little tent to protect us if it rained. We were set.

People also slept the night there (keen, I know). Nadja's boyfriend explained to me that, technically, groups from another town can steal the tree if no-one is around to protect it. However, few are sober enough to drive, let alone get a tree down from a pole. So you're generally safe. But also, the party generally rocks. So people don't really want to leave.

On the Sunday, the people of the village come... to eat the omelettes made with the eggs which they gave. At our place, there were also some salads, some sausages (it is Germany, after all), etc.

People also started playing some kind of wood-throwing-target-hitting game, which reminded me of a cross between bowling and petanque.

On the last day, there are competitions between all of the different villages. I missed this, as I was flying off to Italy, but Nadja told me about some of the games. The only one I remember (because it was so funny) was that people had to spin around a lot, and then go through an obstacle course without falling over. Spinning makes it hard, but you should really take into consideration that these are people who have been drinking all weekend!! The winning village then choses what the games will be the following year.

So, a few other random things which happened in my experience of Pfingstfest:

I was told that my hair looked like a sheep.
One young man tried desperately to convince me that he was not gay. I had never shown any sign of thinking he was, but apparently I needed convincing.
I was trapped in conversation with a drunk teenager who wanted to practice his English, so that he could ask for a potato if he needed to...
I had the merits of Landrovers explained to me. 'They're like, every good thing you've done in your life.'
I met some 'Broworkers' from Berlin, and they claimed that their friend was the World's Drunkest Man.
Everything was AWESOME.
One guy got really excited when I said I was from Napier, and was like 'Napier has its own port!' Turns out he works for a removal company.
The muffins that Nadja and I made received 2 thumbs up. We are awesome.

Small-town Germany: Süchterscheid with Nadja

libby-k8 — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 05:13:00 GMT

... luckily, Nadja and I found each other in the 6 minutes she had between getting of her train and onto the one we were taking to her place. First time we'd seen each other in about 7.5 years, so it was amazing to catch up. Given that we'd been writing to each other during this time, it was also fantastic to be able to meet her parents (well, again, as I did briefly in NZ), her sister and her boyfriend, as they'd been mentioned in the letters.

Got to hang out at her place in a wee town and enjoy the tranquility. There were plenty of luxurious breakfasts with bread, cheese, various cheese spreads, yoghurt, juice, tea... Yum.

Nadja and I also did a walk to Germany's smallest town. I can't find the name, even asking Google. I'll have to ask Nadja again. It was really pretty, and had some of those white houses with the dark wooden frames, that I always thought of as very German. ;P We headed up the tower of the old castle to get a great view over the valley, back towards the village, and over a fishing lake. We also got to watch a group of people, all wearing funny red elf-like hats, who were celebrating... something. Who really knows. But they were having a lot of fun.

Also did a walk with the dogs in the woods. Reminded me of home, for some reason. Maybe the natural area at Te Mata Peak, or the Redwoods in Rotorua.

We also tested our baking skills, making apple and chocolate muffins. I did really enjoy doing some baking (ok, all I really did was grate the apple. Nadja was the master baker and boss, especially since I couldn't understand the German recipe), since I couldn't in France.

We also listened to some cool music of her mum's. Must ask her for the name of that artist. I think she was Swedish...

Köln: Lethargy (3)

libby-k8 — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 19:57:00 GMT

On my final day, I decided that I just couldn’t leave without heading into the cathedral, especially since it was free. So, I joined the tourist mob, and the guided groups, and ambled through this massive construction. There were some pretty impressive stained-glass windows, I must say.

Was going to go up the towers, but I was in cheapskate mode and decided that I could do without that. I think I read that they are about 100m high, though. Amazing!

Sat in the cathedral square for a while, to soak up the atmosphere. People are constantly meeting and greeting here: school groups, friends, families, tour groups, couples… Plus the ‘human statues,’ white-faced Navy officers and Charlie Chaplin lookalikes are all vying for photos, and therefore the tourist dollar.

Next mission: lunch. I did another huge wander, in which I went past an ancient city gate from, I believe, Roman times, and a huuuge square. Eventually, I settled on what turned out to be a very tasty sandwich from one of those Merzenich bakeries which seem to be everywhere, at least in Cologne. Mozzarella, tomato and basil. J Yum! Quite Italian, really, now that I think about it.

By this stage, I somehow couldn’t be bothered doing anything more than sitting and watching the world go by. So I sat in town for a bit. Then, I changed my location to the Rhine. Then I sat and stared at a computer screen in my internet café for a bit.

My stomach told me it was dinner time, so I went for a falafel kebab. I took it back to the Rhine. Some young girl with pretty good English befriended me. She told me she was a bit drunk, and asked about New Zealand.

I collected my suitcase from the hostel, lugged it to the main station, and chilled there for a bit, before heading up to the platform to meet Nadja, and head for Siegburg station. She only had about 6 minutes between 2 trains, so I was crossing my fingers that it'd work out...

Köln: Being a Tourist, and Papa Joe’s Jazzlokal (2)

libby-k8 — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 19:43:00 GMT

Since I was too cheap to pay 4€ for what the hostel offered for breakfast, my day started with a long walk, as I wandered in the hope of finding a better option. Strangely enough, I can’t actually remember what I ended up with, but I think it was just some kind of raisin bread.

I had my heart set on going on one of those little tourist trains which tootle around pretty much every European town, so I headed off to the pick-up point by the cathedral square. There were 2 routes, and I chose the one which went to the zoo as a) I thought I was less likely to walk that way, and b) the botanic gardens were right next door. Well, the gardens were nice, but not amazing. And, I have to say, I was a little bit disappointed. I didn’t feel that I saw too much on the route, and I couldn’t really hear the commentary that was playing since the train itself rattled so much (although I did have the windows open, so maybe that didn’t help)! Also, the commentary was in German and then in English, so I found it quite hard to work out whether we were still beside what they were talking about, or if we’d already passed it.

Felt that I was obliged to eat some kind of sausage while in Germany, so I cruised around town until I found a little place which sold currywurst. I was rather pleased with myself, since I managed to do the (albeit very simple) transaction in (very, very bad) German. Sometimes, it’s nice not to be the obnoxious English speaker.

On my way to this place, I’d passed so many interesting shops that I had somehow got into a shopping mood. So, in the next few hours, I leisurely browsed my way through Cologne. And I managed to limit my purchases to one light grey scarf. I promise that I actually needed it… And it was on sale.

After some chilling time, I headed out again, to a place I’d discovered on my search for breakfast: Papa Joe’s Jazzlokal. This place is actually mint, and I’d recommend it to any jazz-lover who goes to Cologne. It’s really central, and just one street back from the Rhine. It’s also tiny, so get in early. Every night at 8.30, there’s live music (outside, you can grab a brochure with the dates, and names of the groups and a brief description of their music) and no cover charge. The drinks are a bit pricier (because of this, I guess) but hey – you get live entertainment and peanuts still in their shells. ;p The walls are plastered with jazz memorabilia, the light fittings are trumpets, there are saxes hanging off the walls.

The night that I went, Papa Joe’s own ‘jazzmen’ were playing and, even though I couldn’t understand what they were saying, they were pretty entertaining chaps. They played heaps of standards, in a kind of trad, perhaps slightly Dixie style. Awesome.

A Dutch train driver who spoke very good English befriended me, and we had a good chat over a few Kölsh (when in Cologne…), so all in all, a great night.

Köln: The Unexpected Journey (1)

libby-k8 — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 19:39:00 GMT

Had a couple of days to fill in between visiting Anne and heading to Nadja’s place, so I jumped on the net the day before to search for a hostel in Stuttgart. They were all full.

Never mind, I thought. I’ll head to Frankfurt instead. A few of Anne’s friends had told me how great Frankfurt was, so it seemed like a good choice. Except that all of the hostels there were full, too.

Finally, I decided to check out Cologne (Köln), since it was near Nadja’s town anyway. Finally, I was in luck, so I booked 2 nights in the Pathpoint Cologne HI hostel. Which is a really nice hostel, and really close to the centre and the main train station, just in case any of you ever need a hostel in Cologne.

The next day, I took the train to Cologne, which was no mean feat, since I had to change about 4 times. I was pretty pleased with myself for achieving that. In fact, my main problem was when I decided to use the station loos in – Mainz, I think – and couldn’t get my (massive) suitcase through their wonderful barriers. Ended up having to go back out, then a nice man helped me, and I had to duck through a gap to avoid paying for the second time. (Hate paying for toilets. Grrr.)

Found the hostel really easily, and then set out for a random walk around the city. The hostel had even given me a free map, so I didn’t have to worry about getting (too) lost. It was at this point that I made my great discovery… the Rhine. I love being by water (that’s what growing up on the coast in NZ will do to you, apparently), so I spent a lot of time wandering the banks of this river. Headed across the bridge to get some cool views back towards the centre of town (ie the Dom cathedral).

In the evening, I did a massive walk. Partly because I could, and partly because I was trying to find an internet cafe. I wandered for about 45 minutes, and was on my way back home (probably about 5 mins away) when I found one. Anyway, it was worth the walk to have seen the city! I was waiting in line to ask the man the dealio for using the net, thinking to myself that I was going to have to be obnoxious and ask him to speak English, or speak some terrible, terrible German, when (praise be) I heard him speaking French to a man in front of me. Damn, it was nice to speak French again, and it felt so comfortable after having tried to play the German game.

Tübingen

libby-k8 — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 00:14:00 GMT

I am in a very lazy mood, and think I´m spending quite a lot on the net here... so.. you know it´s gonna be bullet points. This is about 3 days worth of activities.

Arrived and wondered if I was going to get in, as Mr Border Control spent a long time looking at my French visa, and even had a wee chat to his colleague.
Saw my friend Anne (with whom I worked at Take Five) for the first time in about 4.5 years. Didn´t feel like we´d been apart that long. :)
Had beer and Obatzter (Bavarian cheesy dip thingee) in a Biergarten by the river in Tübingen. Oh, good, good times.
There are so many bikes in Tübingen. It´s actually crazy.
Went for a wander around the town centre, with its cute buildings. There were cool buskers, too. Violin and xylophone/random box drum thing.
May have fallen asleep in the arvo... well, Heathrow Airport isn´t a great place to sleep, ok?
Went out for a drink in town, and had about 4 of Anne´s friends speaking English to me. Lol. Gotta love the Germans.
Did a high ropes course. This was a heap of fun! It has been a while.
Went to a lake in the Black Forest. :) Had been planning to swim (it was hot in the morning) but it clouded over... so we just lazed.
Had beers on Anne´s balcony, with one of her friends. The one who told me that my Radler was a KinderBier. ;p
Went wandering through the fields, admiring the peace and quiet, and nice views.
Had one man in the fields ask me where I was going (I think) and having to explain that I didn´t speak German, and then trying to speak German, and only mustering ´gehen... ein bisschen.´
Watched the Darjeeling Ltd. Good movie, that.
Went to the bakery to get a brezel. Happy life.
Went on the Stocherkahn boats (kinda like a gondola) on the Nekar. That was very relaxing.
Had a nice big schnitzel. Well, I am in Germany, after all.

Random Reflections on Germany

libby-k8 — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 00:06:00 GMT

Germans, you speak English well! And I, not speaking your lingo, am SO happy that you´re so willing to do so.
I´m sorry, but what is up with this sparkling water dealio? I know you think I´m weird when I want the still stuff, but (to me) yours is more like some kind of tasteless soft drink than water...
Beergardens are genius.
And brezels are also very cool.
You still have smoking rooms in pubs in some areas? I really thought that wasn´t allowed... pretty much everywhere any more!
The crazy tv programme (I think it´s called Galileo) in which people conduct scientifickyish experiments is cool. Because, I don´t understand a thing they´re saying, but I can tell that he´s sticking that umbrella out the top of a speeding sports car because he wants to know how fast they can go before it turns inside out. Likewise with the dude serving tennis balls at the umbrellas at high speeds, until they rip. Good times.

Dammit!

libby-k8 — Thu, 9 Jun 2011 05:39:00 GMT

Just wrote my random reflections on Germany, only for the web page to stuff up as I saved it. Consequently, it is all gone. :(

I´ll update you guys later.